Secret Keeper
by TypicalTypo19
Summary: Karen's keeping a secret that could change everything for her and Will. Should she tell him? Can she afford not to?
1. Before You Begin

Before you begin:

To those of you who have already been reading this story, I've made some changes. To this just beginning, let me explain:

Each chapter of this story is titled with a song (or two) that is meant to be listened to while reading. Some of these songs are the ones I was listening to as I penned the chapter, and some just fit the mood well or set the correct tone. You can find most of the songs on .com or by searching their title on YouTube. My hope is that not only will this provide a more emotionally satisfying reading experience, but that also by the end of it some of you will have a great new playlist.

Because I can't put both the title of the song and the artist in the chapter title, at the beginning of each chapter I will include a "Playlist Item" that has both pieces of information.

Enjoy!


	2. Prologue

_They say that love finds you when you least expect it. In their case, love found them, trampled on them, abandoned them, and reunited them. All when they least expected it. _

_July 22__nd__, 1998_

_11:48 a.m._

Karen turned sharply on her heel, away from Grace standing at her desk, away from his face, away from the heat she felt rising in her own cheeks. It was only her third day of working here, in this small, cluttered designer's office in SoHo. It was only the third day and already she was looking for an escape.

Not that working for Grace was bad. In fact, she quite liked it, whether it appeared that way or not. Grace Adler was nice enough, although a bit boring, but Karen could tell she had a big heart. And that she was brave; I mean, it had to take guts to hire a woman like Karen to be your assistant. Her work was easy - and actually, since she didn't really know how to do anything, there wasn't much "work" at all. She liked to joke about the fact that her job at Grace Adler Designs was only a way of getting away from her husband, Stan, and his step kids, but the truth was, there weren't many places Karen could go to be alone.

Sometimes, she just needed to get away from it all. From Stan's loveless hands, from the way Olivia looked at her in judgment, from Rosario's constant reminders that she was less than perfect. But most of all, she needed to get away from herself. In Grace's office, she didn't have to put on airs or pretend to be someone she wasn't. As soon as she closed that frosted glass door behind her and set her purse next to the chair behind the desk littered with fingernail polish and martini glasses, she could release all of the decisions she had ever made and any regret she had ever felt.

Until today.

Today this man was standing in front of her, pretending that he didn't know her name, or the feel of her goose bumps under his touch, or the sound she made when she reached climax. Today, a splinter of her past that had long been untouched would be drudged up. Today she and Grace were not alone in the office, and today she was back to pretending.

"Karen, this is my best friend, Will Truman," Grace had told her, that stupid smile plastered across her face. As soon as they locked eyes, they knew. Actually, as soon as Will had walked in the room, Karen had known it was him. Everything about him was unmistakable - and although they had shared only a short time together, Karen could never forget his eyes. They were deep and intense, but all at once gentle and comforting as well. The image of those eyes hovering above her in a dark and cool room, illuminated by their body heat in a fit of passion, was burned into her memory.

Grace had spoken often of Will, but before their meeting, Karen would never have guessed that Grace's Will was the same as her Will. Besides, Grace told her he was gay, and there was no way Karen's Will could be gay. Or at least that's what she had thought. So what was she to him? An experiment? A slip up?

"I thought gay guys couldn't get turned on by women," she would whisper bitterly to him later in the hall.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His words came in a hiss, and she knew the conversation was over. He had turned the page, and so had she. Apparently he was much more reluctant to bring up their past than she was, but then again, he hadn't been as deeply affected.

After their first meeting in a bar in '93, Karen couldn't get Will out of her mind. It had been a chance encounter, but for her, it was love at first sight. Karen St. Croix wasn't used to being knocked off balance by a man, but this one left her completely askew. And when they made love, shockwaves went through her body like she had never felt before. Over the course of just a few short weeks, her heart was completely broken down by this mysterious man.

Will never wanted to meet in the daylight, and at first, it upset Karen. She wasn't completely opposed to the idea of a secret affair, hidden under cover of darkness, for Stanley Walker was always lurking in the back of her mind. They weren't together at the time, but she knew that if she wanted to keep any chance of getting back together with him, she would have to be careful with Will. And careful they were; they didn't exchange phone numbers or addresses; she didn't even know his last name. They met at 10 p.m. every night at the Grand Lafayette hotel, and left just before 1 a.m. They never spoke of an expiration date for this affair; they would know it was over when one of them stopped showing up.

And actually, it was Karen that had ended it. She and Will had been carrying on right up until the day that Stanley showed up at her door, begging for her to come back to him and asking for her hand in marriage. That's when she knew she had to end it with Will. In her dreams, it was him that had proposed to her instead of Stanley. But her conscious mind knew that what she had with Will couldn't last forever, and sooner or later, she would no longer know the feel of his lips on her neck. Stanley's offer was too good to pass up, and so, she accepted. That was the first night in three months that she didn't show up to the Grand Lafayette.

Karen was barely listening to the words being exchanged six feet away from her. Grace and Will chattered on easily and effortlessly, and Karen wondered how he could do it. He was proving to be a better actor than she, for in his presence her hands shook harder with every breath she took. But Will remained perfectly calm as the woman he had bedded time and again all those years ago sat in front of him. He acted as though she didn't even exist. And maybe to him, she didn't. She wouldn't have blamed him. She couldn't have.

The worst part, though - the very worst - was the gnawing sensation in her stomach. It was eating at her stomach lining, pecking at her intestines. It was merciless and persistent, and she knew exactly what it was: the secret. The one secret that she had told to only a handful of people, and the one that she had repressed so far into the depths of her psyche that it took her a minute to register why she was having such an adverse reaction to Will Truman and his re-introduction into her life.

And she knew that at some point, she would have to tell him.


	3. Rich Girls

***Playlist: "Rich Girls" by The Virgins

_October, 1993_

Splish, splash. Splish, splash. Each time she took a step her stiletto heel would hit the glistening black pavement, making the shallow puddles of rainwater dance and jump. The cab she had just jumped out of sped away behind her. Her black trench coat hung open around her slender body, the fabric belt dangling at her sides. She held a newspaper open over her head as a makeshift umbrella and as she hurried across the street, she counted the steps to the purple neon sign of the hotel in front of her.

After she was safely under the overhang of the hotel's marquee, she tossed the paper aside and tied the belt of her coat around her tightly. She nodded and smiled as she passed the well-dressed doorman and stepped into the lobby of the hotel. Skipping the front desk she rounded the corner, going directly to the elevators as beads of rainwater rolled down her bare legs. She was glad when she stepped into the farthest elevator to the left and found the interior to be covered in mirrors. Her makeup had run and her hair was flat, but she didn't care. She licked her lips, smiled at herself, and stepped out of the elevator on the 21st floor.

Her fingertips brushed the peach-colored walls of the hall as she walked to room 2132. The pattern of the wallpaper was rough against her tender skin. The wood of the door was smoother, and the doorknob was cold. Heat was instantly restored to her cold, damp hands as soon as he pulled her inside and captured her mouth in a rough kiss. He needed a shave; his face was prickly and made her giggle.

He shut the door behind her quickly and pressed her against it, his hands quickly working the knot of her belted coat. She moaned into his mouth as he opened the coat, a deep, throaty moan that had been building inside of her all day. He nibbled her ear and kissed her neck aggressively as his hands ran up and down her sides beneath the thick canvas of her coat. They moved as one as he lifted her from the floor while she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

He took her to the bed where he discarded her coat, pleasantly surprised to find that all she was wearing underneath was a silk negligee and thong.

"What kind of woman are you?" he growled against her skin; playful.

Her eyes darted around the room as he kissed her jaw, her collarbone. His suit coat was hung neatly over the back of the desk chair, his shoes set against the wall. He was still wearing his dress shirt and slacks. She went to work on taking off his tie as he ran his hands up her thighs.

In two minutes' time she had him completely undressed, and sat straddling his excited body on the bed. He pushed up the edge of her negligee to get a firm grip on her hips as she guided him into her. When the connection was made they both reacted; her eyes closed automatically as her lips parted, the feeling so intensely pleasurable that she let her head drop forward as she concentrated on her pleasure. He moaned and groaned beneath her, waiting in eager anticipation for her to lead the way.

She started slowly, pushing her pelvis forward and back over his lap, grasping his hands at her sides and guiding them up to her breasts. She leaned forward slightly, hovering over him as he kneaded her supple bosom, rolling her nipples in his thumb and forefinger through the silk of her negligee. Her hips sped up their pace and before he could help it, his mid-section was raising and lowering up and down on the bed, meeting her thrusts.

"Wait -" he panted, "-I want to look into your eyes."

She looked down at him, puzzled, but allowed him to roll them so that he was on top. Not wanting to lose the momentum of the sensation building between her legs, she wrapped her legs tightly around him as he continued to thrust. Her ankles crossed, her stilettos pointing to the ceiling as he pumped in and out of her.

"I need you to touch me," she whispered. His hand found her clit and worked in time with the thrusts of his hips.

"Oh god," she panted. "Oh god I'm coming!"

He continued fucking her as her orgasm hit her. A second wave shook her body as he exploded inside of her, his lips breaking from hers under the intensity of his pleasure. A laugh of ecstasy escaped her lips and she pecked his lips as he recovered, still in shock, his face centimeters form hers. Her hand moved to wipe away a bead of sweat that was making its way down his cheek, and her palm paused here. She stroked his warm flesh with her thumb, and her tenderness moved him to recapture her mouth in a delicate kiss, their tongues tapping lightly inside their mouths.

Later, she lay under the white sheets of the bed completely nude after they made love for the second time. With the sheet draped delicately over her body, she reached to the bedside table and pulled a cigarette out of a pack sitting next to the lamp. She lit it and took a long drag, studying his naked form as he stood in front of the window watching the rain hit it silently.

"What are you thinking about?"

Her voice was suddenly in his ear, her arms snaking around his waist from behind. He felt the pressure of her cheek against his back and couldn't help but smile.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know, that's why I asked."

Her hand reached up in front of his face, and not able to reach all the way to his mouth, he pulled the cigarette from her hand and put it there himself. He spoke after taking a few puffs.

"I needed that."

"A cigarette?"

At this he turned in her arms so that they were face to face, and sank to his knees in front of her, the cigarette smoking between his fingers. She was caught off guard when he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against her flat stomach.

"No. You."

She twirled her fingers through his hair as he embraced her sweetly. Yes, this one would be hard to shake. He was good in bed, and sweeter than any of the others. He was growing attached, she could tell. And as hard as it was for her to admit, so was she.

Maybe this time it would work. Maybe this time things would work out and they could run away together, never having to leave each other's arms. She didn't know what he did for a living, or where he lived, or if he had any brothers or sisters. She didn't even know his last name. But maybe Will was the just the man Karen had been looking for. Maybe from now on, everything could be perfect.

But then again, maybe not.


	4. To Pluto's Moon

***Playlist: "To Pluto's Moon" by My Brightest Diamond

_July 1994_

A bead of sweat ran down Karen's brow; it was the end of July in New York City and muggy. And although the air conditioning was humming above her, filling the already cold room with cold air, she was perspiring greatly. Her body was doing overtime, engaged in the act it was designed for, the singular female purpose on this earth.

"One more push, Karen," the doctor, clad in teal scrubs, instructed her from between her legs. A nurse with a kind face was beside her, holding her hand and stroking her sweaty forehead. Karen bared her chin to her chest and grimaced as she focused on the muscles that were throbbing and contracting within her.

A man standing outside of the delivery room watched through the narrow window of the door, uneasy. He watched as Karen cried out, her dark hair matted to the sides of her face and fanned out against the pillow behind her head.

"Just one more," the doctor instructed again, leveraging himself against her left foot, her legs bent up towards her.

"That's what you said the last time!" she cried.

"I mean it this time - I see the head," he responded, as another nurse rushed to his side carrying a bundle of soft white cloths. "Should we call your husband?"

"No," Karen panted. "I'm not married."

"The father, then?"

She hesitated, a new kind of pain flashing through her; the pain that comes with knowing you're alone in this, that you always have been, and probably always will be.

"No. There is no father."

The doctor and nurse at Karen's side exchanged a wary glance. The man outside the door shifted uncomfortably.

Suddenly, a searing contraction ripped through Karen, and as she was blinded by the pain, it was all she could do to remain conscious. But there were voices in her ear, telling her to push, telling her to meet her child, and she listened. She shut her eyes as she mustered her strength, and all she could see was Will. And for him, she pushed.

When they put the baby on her chest, its tiny cries fiercely punctuating the room, its tiny fingers clenching and unclenching as it reached for Karen's flesh, she didn't know what to do. It was so tiny and fragile-looking that she was terrified to touch it, but there was some instinct inside of her that was longing to connect to this little being that she had carried inside of her for nine months.

"Hold her," the friendly nurse instructed.

"_Her_?" Karen asked.

"Yes, it's a girl," the nurse replied kindly. She smiled. "You have a daughter."

"Overwhelmed" was the only way to describe Karen's feelings at that moment. Slowly, gingerly, she took hold of the little girl. She was surprised by how warm and squishy the baby was. As their skin made contact, the baby stopped crying and looked up at Karen. When their eyes met, goose bumps rose on Karen's skin. It was like looking into her own eyes.

A new nurse came into the room.

"I'm sorry, Karen, but the Newmans are here. You'll have to say good-bye."

She had no idea this moment would come so soon, but Karen nodded and looked back down at her baby. And for the first time throughout this whole ordeal, her throat became tight and tears flooded her eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling," she whispered to the infant, stroking her cheek with her index finger as she rocked her gently. "I couldn't have possibly known until this very moment how much I want you, but I can't keep you. I can't be your mother. You'll understand why some day." As the tears began to fall, she kissed the little girl's soft head, slightly ruffling the dark, wispy hairs there. "Be happy."

Then the new nurse was at Karen's side, reaching for the baby before Karen was ready to let go, but there was nothing she could do. As her daughter was taken from her and hurried into the hall, Karen caught a glance of Mr. and Mrs. Newman through the swinging door. They were a nice-looking, middle-aged couple, whose faces lit up as soon as they were presented with their new baby. Karen looked away as Mrs. Newman took the baby in her arms, her motherly response nearly identical to Karen's just moments before.

Karen sobbed, harder than she ever had. Harder than when her father died, harder even than when she had left room 2132 for the last time. She thought then, as she had left Will probably forever, she knew what true loss felt like. But this - this was entirely different, and ten thousand times worse. Now she had lost the two most important people in her life.

When the door swung open again, Karen hardly noticed. She looked up as someone took her hand, to see Stanley Walker at her bedside, looking distressed as he knew he was supposed to. They didn't speak - what could they possibly say? So they just sat, Stan holding Karen as she wept. A Tiffany's ring box was burning a hole in his pocket.

Outside, in the hallway, Elena Marie Newman was becoming acquainted with her new parents. They delighted in their new daughter, promising to love and provide for her for the rest of her life. In their eyes, they had rescued this little baby from a life of dysfunction and heartache. What they didn't realize was just how much love they had just taken from two people who destined for each other, and who were destined to spend the next several years fighting to be together.


	5. On the Nature of Daylight

***Playlist: "On the Nature of Daylight" by Max Richter

_July 22nd, 1998 _

_11:49 a.m._

But there he was, standing in front of her, just as perfect as the day they had met. His skin was tan from the summer, and his grey suit hugged his body in all the right places to accentuate his slim, muscular, build. As Karen studied him, Will could feel her eyes on him, and he could hardly help himself from turning around and staring right back at her. But he couldn't make a scene, not here, in front of Grace. He had never told Grace about his affair with the beautiful older woman who had captivated him in every way, and he certainly didn't plan on telling her about their history now.

"You know what, Grace?" Will asked, putting a hand gently on her forearm, interrupting her rant about Danny. "I totally forgot that I'm supposed to be meeting a client in twenty minutes across town. I'm sorry, I'll have to take a rain check on lunch." Grace nodded and he kissed her head before leaving quickly, catching Karen's eye on his way into the hall. Karen let ten seconds go by before jumping up from her desk.

"Wow, those Bloody Marys went right through me! Excuse me," she exclaimed, giggling nervously as she ran out into the hall after Will.

When she got to the staircase she threw the door open, hurrying down one flight before grabbing Will's arm. He turned and stopped his descent, glancing warily at her hand on his arm. Her touch sent shivers up his spine.

"What?" he asked, his voice sounded much more venomous than he had intended it to.

"Will…" Karen breathed, searching his eyes. Now that she had him alone, she didn't know what to say to him. She didn't know what she could say. There was so much she needed to tell him - so much she _wanted _to tell him, but she just couldn't bring herself to. She thought of the daughter they had that he had no idea even existed, and her confession burned on her lips. But no - this wasn't the right time or place to drop that bomb on him. So she just stared.

"Yes?" he questioned, his eyebrows raised.

"I don't…I…_say something!_" she pleaded.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Um…I don't know. 'I missed you'?" Karen attempted a feeble smile as she took her hand off of his arm. His tense posture relaxed and for the first time in their last ten minutes together, he looked at her like a former lover instead of an unexpected annoyance.

"Karen…" he took a step down, away from her. "It's been years…" he took another step down. "I can't."

Karen never took her eyes from his, but a flush was rising in her cheeks. Maybe it was embarrassment, maybe it was anger, she couldn't tell. It was probably both. Why was he doing this to her? Why was this happening? She laughed to herself bitterly.

"You know this morning was the first morning in five years that you weren't the first thing I thought about when I woke up?"

"Karen…"

"No, just go." She regained her posture, grateful for the fact that she was towering over him as she stood three steps above him. In an act of defiance she thrust her left hand towards him, her wedding ring flashing in his eyes. She looked away as he studied it, then gently took her hand in his and raised it to his lips in a gentle kiss. She couldn't make herself watch as he rushed off down the stairs, leaving her alone in the dingy, white staircase. The fluorescent lights stung her eyes, which were already burning with the tears that began streaming down her face as she sank down onto the stairs, her face in her hands.


	6. In the Summer in the Heat

***Playlist: "In the Summer In the Heat" by Shannon Stephens

"Miss Karen, you have a letter," Rosario announced as Karen entered the kitchen. She traded Rosario her purse for the letter, which lacked a return address and was thicker than a usual bill or notice. Karen turned the cream-colored envelope over in her hands, knowing exactly what it was.

"Thanks, Rosie," she told her maid. Rosario nodded and raised her eyebrows, also knowing what the envelope contained, but she didn't dare say anything about it. Karen waited until Rosario took her leave into the dining room, and then furiously tore open the envelope. She pulled out a stack of six photographs, all displaying an adorable little girl with rosy cheeks, porcelain skin, and bouncing brown curls. In the first photograph she was riding a tricycle, hamming it up for the camera by displaying a toothy grin. Karen laughed out loud at her daughter's love of the spotlight. In the next picture Elena was hanging on for dear life to a Golden Retriever, in the next she was proudly displaying a bouquet of dandelions she had just picked. A rare warmth was rising in Karen she flipped through the rest of the pictures, finally getting to the last one. In it, Elena was sitting at an elegant-looking dining room table, getting ready to blow out the candles on an elaborately decorated birthday cake which read "Happy Birthday Elena." Her dainty mouth was forming a tiny "O" as she prepared her breath, her long eyelashes pressed to her cheek. Karen couldn't help but notice how much she was beginning to resemble Will.

Will…

"What are you looking at?" She jumped at Stan's voice, loud in her ear.

"Jesus, Stanley."

"Sorry," he whispered, kissing her cheek as he stood behind her with his large hands on her shoulders. "Ah, it's that time of year again," he stated, a bit ruefully, as he noticed what it was Karen was looking at.

"They're prompt," Karen agreed. It was almost four years to the day that Elena had been born, and ever since that day that she had turned her over to the Newman couple in the hospital, they had sent Karen updated pictures every year on Elena's birthday. There was never a note or a return address, just a stack of pictures. In fact, the only way she had even known her daughter's name was because it was scrawled across each birthday cake, year after year.

Stan followed Karen up the stairs and into her study, where she immediately went to a desk in the corner. From behind a picture frame on the hutch of the desk she pulled out a key and slipped it into the bottom drawer of the desk. From it, she pulled a manila envelope and pulled out a much larger stack of photographs. Stan sat on the chaise lounge behind her, observing her as he loosened his tie.

"I don't know why you torture yourself," he told her, watching her as she flipped through the photos of her daughter through the years that had arrived in the mail. "Wouldn't it just be easier to put all of that behind you?"

"'All of that'?" she questioned, turning sharply to frown at him. "Stanley, I know you don't like it, but she's my child. It's hard to just forget about your own flesh and blood. Could you just toss Mason and Olivia aside and pretend they had never existed?"

Stan considered a moment, before shaking his head apologetically.

"Of course not, I'm sorry," he told her, kicking his shoes off. "I just don't like thinking about that part of your life, ok?"

"I know," Karen whispered, tossing the stack of pictures onto the desk before snuggling up next to her husband. "I'm sorry that's how things had to be, but it wasn't entirely my fault."

"Of course not," he sighed. "Let's not talk about it, alright? One thing I do wish, though," Stan whispered in her ear.

"Mmm?"

"Is that…" he found one her hands and twisted his fingers around hers, "she was ours."

"Stanley…"

"Come on, Kare! You miss this in your life," he began, motioning towards the pictures of Elena on the desk in front of them, "Why don't we have a baby?"

Karen was now growing irritated. They'd had this conversation a million times before, and for some reason he just wasn't getting the message.

"Another baby isn't going to replace her, Stanley!" she stood from the chaise lounge and moved towards the door, desperately wanting to avoid this conversation. "And you already have two kids that need you right now. A new baby probably isn't the best idea."

"Maybe not, but it would help! And sweetheart, I want to have a child with _you_!"

Karen stopped in the doorway, turning towards him full of resignation.

"Stanley…" her voice was soft and she shook her head slightly as she laughed bitterly. "I can't get pregnant."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I haven't been on the pill for two years now," she sighed and leaned against the wood of the door frame. "I thought the same thing you think, that having another one would erase all the pain of not having Elena. But I guess getting pregnant with her was just a fluke, because nothing seems to be taking now."

Stan looked grave as he listened to what she was saying.

"I see," he said, plainly. He stood and moved towards her, and just as she was expecting him to wrap his arms around her in comfort, he simply walked past her into the hall. And again, she was alone.

After he had left she shut the door and went back to the desk. Sitting in the antique wooden chair, she grabbed the pictures of her daughter and began to flip through them once more. As she studied her daughter's face, it was impossible not to think of Will, whom she was looking so much like as she grew. It seemed impossible to Karen that this was all happening now - Elena was already four years old, Stanley was requesting a baby, and Will was suddenly back in her life. Will. This little girl's real father. He deserved to know. But what would happen if she told him? She had no idea what was going on his life, or how he felt about her. Would this secret destroy him? Would it destroy her to keep it?


	7. No Wedding Cake

***Playlist: "No Wedding Cake" by Fol Chen

The days went by, Karen and Will barely speaking to each other, let alone acknowledging their intimate past. Those days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into months. Grace remained blissfully unaware of the love affair her best friend and lush assistant had been involved in years ago, and Karen enjoyed flaunting her new relationship with Jack in front of Will. The more time Karen and Will spent together, the easier things were. The dynamic between them developed organically - almost instinctually. Whenever she found herself in a situation where the veil of animosity towards Will was threatening to fall, Karen simply amped up the put-downs and eye rolls. And likewise, in those not-so-rare instances when Will could hardly control himself from grabbing her waist and kissing her mouth, Will turned cold and distant. This had become the norm between them; both of them constantly repressing their past affair and present feelings.

….

Will trudged up the wooden stairs, his socked feet thumping softly as he ascended. Downstairs, he could hear Grace banging around in the foreign kitchen, searching for ingredients to make hot cocoa. Although today was the would-be anniversary of Will and Michael's romance, right now he wasn't thinking about Michael at all. His friends had brought him here, to Karen's cabin in the woods, to take his mind off of things, and he was grateful to them. He could tell that even Karen had made an effort. This side of her - the considerate side - was one he hadn't seen in almost five years. He missed it. He missed her.

He reached the top of the stairs and started down the long hallway to the last room on the right, his bedroom. The first door on the left was cracked open, just enough for Will to hear Jack's snores resonating into the hall. He smiled to himself as he pulled the door closed all the way, holding the knob to turn it slowly so as not to wake Jack with the loud "click" of the mechanism. Karen's room , was across from Jack's, and Will cast a wary glance at her closed door, a fleeting thought of her sleeping beautifully crossing his mind.

Once inside his room, he flopped onto the plush-looking double bed, sighing heavily. The soft lamplight coming from the bedside table cast an arched glow across the logged ceiling. Will followed it with his tired eyes, then traced the line of the ceiling down to the adjacent wall. And for the first time, he noticed another door there. Curious, he got up from the bed and went to the door. With some trepidation, he opened it slowly, hardly surprised when it revealed the bathroom that he and Karen were sharing. He went to the sink; splashed some cold water on his face.

Toweling off, he noticed another door on the opposite side of the bathroom that mirrored the one he had just come through from his bedroom. He realized that this door must lead to Karen's room, and that it was cracked open. A small sliver of yellow light streaked out of it, and cautiously, without being able to help himself, Will aligned himself behind it. With shallow breath, he peered into Karen's bedroom. Karen was standing with her back to him in front of the bed, removing a black fur overcoat. Her feet were bare, and Will tensed as the coat fell from Karen's shoulders to the floor, leaving her standing in only black lingerie. The familiarity of the scene was not lost on Will, and he was transfixed as he watched her move to the table beside her bed and dropped her wedding ring on the night stand. As she turned back towards where Will was standing to fold the covers of the bed back, he stepped back into the middle of the bathroom. His mind lost in the memory of Karen's body between the sheets of their hotel suite, he nudged the door closed.

Karen looked up as she heard the "click" of the door to the bathroom shutting. She smiled.

Five minutes later, Will was lathering up in the shower, trying to get the image of Karen's half-naked body out of his mind. It was still just as lovely and perfect as he remembered it. As the warm water washed over his face, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the shower wall and began to pleasure himself, unable to help himself.

Karen slipped into the steam-filled bathroom, her silk bathrobe now wrapped tightly around her as she hopped up onto the countertop. She swung her legs slightly as she watched Will's form through the blurred glass of the shower, tilting her head to fully admire the shape of his fit body.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Will jumped at Karen's question and following giggle.

"Jesus, Karen don't you know how to knock?"

"You know, honey, it's nothing I haven't seen."

Will abandoned what he was working on and went back to shampooing his hair.

"Oh so you suddenly want to talk about that?"

Karen bit her lip.

"Talk about what?"

"'Talk about what?' Please," Will scoffed, rinsing the suds from his hair. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I'm not the one who decided we weren't going to talk about it. I think you made that pretty clear."

"I can't…do you really want to have this conversation now?" he turned the shower off.

"We have to have it sometime."

"Why?" he poked his head out of the sliding glass door of the shower and motioned for her to hand him his towel. She obliged and he wrapped it around his waist before stepping out the shower.

"Because…" Karen stood from the counter and opened the door to her bedroom. She eyed Will's wet body, the beads of water rolling down his taut muscles. "I miss you." She pulled the door closed behind her as she disappeared into the room.


	8. Wildfire

***Playlist: "Man With the Harmonica" by Radiohead

"Wildfire" by The Coral

The surface was beginning to crack. Weeks had passed since Will and Karen had barely spoken of their past at the cabin, but now, back in Grace's office, nothing had changed.

Karen found herself alone in the office, which happened rarely. She filed her nails and flipped through the latest edition of Vogue magazine, just waiting for the phone to ring or Grace to return from lunch. The quiet of the office was calming, and for perhaps the first time since she started working there, Karen felt oddly at peace sitting behind her desk. For the first time, she felt like she was home.

Until Will burst through the door beside her, bursting her bubble of serenity. She jumped slightly at his boisterous entrance, his briefcase swinging in his hand.

"Where's Grace?" he barked, moving swiftly throughout the office looking for her, as though she were hiding.

"She's not here, Mary," Karen replied, turning back to her magazine.

"I've got to talk to her. She's making a terrible mistake," he set his briefcase down on the stool behind her desk and loosened his tie. Karen could tell he was making himself comfortable. He was going to be here for awhile.

"Well, she's at lunch," Karen told him. "I don't know when she'll be back."

"Is she with Danny?"

"Mmhmm." It suddenly dawned on Karen why Will was here. "Is that what this is all about?" she questioned, waving her finger at him and looking him up and down. Will sighed.

"I know I told her I wouldn't meddle anymore in her love life, but I just - I just can't let her make this mistake again! Danny is all wrong for her." He perched on the edge of Grace's work table as he spoke.

"Honey, I've got some advice for you," Karen began, hopping up from behind her desk and walking to him. "First, brown is over." She smoothed the lapel of his suit jacket as he rolled his eyes. "Second, you need to get a life."

"But I -"

"LIFE!" Karen put her hand over his mouth, effectively silencing him. He quickly batted her hand away and stood from the table. She shrugged and returned to her desk.

"Damn it, Karen," he muttered, turning his back on her to look out the window.

"Excuse me?"

In a flash he was behind her, his breath hot in her ear. She remained frozen as he hovered behind her seated form, his hands firmly gripping her shoulders. His whisper was harsh.

"You think you know everything. You think you can just manipulate people and that they'll play into the palm of your hand. You think you have all the power but you have none. You should've learned that five years ago."

He released her and fled the office, leaving her sitting alone once more. But this time, she didn't feel good about it.

…

"Mr. Truman, Karen Walker is here to see you," Connie's voice came through the intercom on Will's desk. He hesitated before pressing the button.

"Send her in."

He heard her stilettos on the tile floor of the hall before the door opened. When it did, she closed it behind her quickly.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled, not looking up from the paperwork on his desk.

"I wanted to talk to you about yesterday," she stated, remaining rooted to her spot in front of the door.

"Karen…" Will started, sighing and putting his pen down.

"No, listen." She cleared her throat. "What you said to me…it was rude, it was un-called for, and I have no idea why you snapped on _me_ when I thought you were there to yell at Grace. But I spent all night drinking about it, and I realized you're right."

Will finally looked at her, surprised.

"And…" she continued, this time more serious than he had seen her in the past year. "I'm sorry. For everything."

And although her apology was short and simple, Will knew that it was all-encompassing, that she wasn't just apologizing for the way she had been treating him since their re-introduction. He stood and came around the front of his desk, stopping her hand on the doorknob with his.

"Karen…" he said it softly as she looked up into his eyes. All traces of animosity were gone.

"We don't have to talk about it," she whispered. Suddenly his face was just inches from hers, and for a moment she forgot where she was and why she was there.

"I don't want to talk."

An odd sensation flooded through her as his lips brushed hers, a strange mix of nostalgia and passion. It seemed like it had been so long since they had shared a kiss, but it felt exactly as she had remembered it. She breathed in his scent as she pulled him closer, her tongue finding his inside their mouths. He reached behind her and turned the deadbolt on his door before guiding them back to his desk.

Without breaking their kiss, Will backed Karen into his desk. The force of their bodies hitting it causing it to scoot backward an inch or two. Will pushed Karen down on top of it, wiping it clean of all papers and writing utensils with the sweep of his arm. When it was cleared he laid her length-wise along the desk as she unbuttoned his shirt. He kissed her neck as his hands pushed up the hem of her dress.

Karen smiled as Will rose from atop of her to unbutton his pants. He soon was settled back between her legs, her panties down pushed down around her knees, and he began to move slowly in and out of her. She moaned beneath his thrusts, her fingernails working their way down his back. Her legs squeezed his waist and she relished the feeling of having him inside of her once again. She didn't want to let go.

Ten minutes later, she was sprawled on her back still on his desktop, one leg propped up on the ba other knee. He sat on the floor in front of her with his back against the front of the desk. Karen had a cigarette between her lips, a lighter poised in front of it. The end lit, the lighter made a satisfying pop as she snapped it shut.

"You know you can't smoke in here," Will told her, leaning his head back against the desk and shutting his eyes. Karen ignored him and dropped one arm to run it over his neck and shoulder. He grabbed it and kissed her hand.

"Let's run away together," she posited as she watched the smoke of her cigarette twist and twirl up towards the ceiling. Will gave one weak chuckle in response, stroking the soft skin on the outside of her thumb.

"I wish it were that simple."

As they sat there like that for a few more minutes, then as she moved to the floor next to him where he kissed her for another half an hour, Will couldn't help but wonder why they didn't run away together five years earlier. If they had, things would have been so much different. But he had yet to find out just how different.


	9. 1234

***Playlist: "1234" by Feist

Karen felt like her world was tipped on its side. Don't misunderstand - this was an improvement from how she had felt before she went to Will's office. Before, everything was upside down; some semblance of how her life was supposed to be going, but totally backwards in its little details. Now things were half-right. Obviously she and Will were on better terms, but she still wasn't sure where their relationship stood. She had left his office that day with a lighter heart, but without any sort of notion about where they were supposed to go from here.

One week later, she was at Will's apartment with Grace and Jack, sipping a cocktail and listening to Jack's latest story of lust. When he got to the part where he and his latest conquest made love, Karen looked at Will just in time to see him looking at her, and she blushed. As Jack began to graphically recount his romp with Frederico, Will cleared his throat.

"God, that sounds fantastic," Grace piped in.

"Jack, we don't need to hear all the gory details," Will chastised, standing from his chair to retrieve the half-empty bottle of red wine from the kitchen.

"Oh come on, Will," Grace interjected. "Haven't you ever had mind-blowing sex like that?"

Karen took a long gulp of her wine. Even though the thought of Will and Karen being sexual partners would likely never cross his other friends' minds, Will hoped they didn't notice his slight hesitation.

"You know, that's really none of your business." He leaned over Grace's shoulder to fill her glass. If he could get her just a little more drunk, she would forget all about her curiosity in his sex life.

"I'm sorry," she replied, "I know it's been awhile since you've gotten any action."

"Yeah Will," Jack chirped, "how many years has it been since you had sex?" He and Grace giggled, Karen remained quiet.

"I'll have you know," Will responded, "that I had _great_ sex a week ago."

"Great, huh?"

It was Karen that spoke now, a devilish glint in her eye as she extended her glass to Will for a refill.

"Yeah, fantastic, actually." Their gaze lingered just a moment longer than was necessary as Will re-corked the wine bottle.

Grace's interest in the conversation disappeared as soon as her beeper started going off in her purse, which was resting on Will's couch. She immediately jumped up to get it, and stumbled a bit on her first step.

"Never could hold her liquor," Karen teased as Will extended a hand to Grace to steady her.

"I guess I had more wine than I thought," she stated, rummaging through her bag until she found the elusive beeper. She studied the number before tossing it back in and throwing her purse over her shoulder. "Shit, I've got to go."

"What?" Will asked, disappointed.

"Yeah, the Friedmans just beeped me…their new bathroom fixtures were installed today and they've been having some plumbing issues…I told them to beep me if there were any big emergencies," she explained. "Of course I didn't actually expect there to _be_ any…I should go take care of this."

"Can you go like this?" Will asked, referencing her current state of semi-intoxication.

"I'll be ok," she assured him. He kissed her quickly on the cheek and walked her to the door, watching her disappear into the elevator. He turned back towards the kitchen to see that Karen and Jack had already cleared everyone's plates and were standing in front of the sink, splashing soapy dishwater on each other and giggling like school children.

He smiled as he watched them, marveling at how close they had become in such a short period of time. Then he realized that it wasn't all that strange; when he and Karen first met they were sleeping together in a matter of days. She had that power - the ability to make people want to open up to her almost instantly. And once you let Karen Walker in, there was no backing out. She stuck with you, in your thoughts, your dreams…lately Will had found himself making special trips to Grace's office just to see Karen, to be in her presence. He was beginning to understand that for the second time in his life, he was falling under her spell.

"I've got to go meet Rudy for drinks," Jack announced, putting down the dishtowel he was holding.

"Rudy?" Karen asked. "I thought you were seeing Frederico."

"Last night I saw Frederico, tonight I'm seeing Rudy."

Will shrugged, Karen nodded. Jack said goodnight to each of them and in a flash was out the door, leaving Karen and Will all alone. They were silent as Karen turned back to the dishes, methodically dipping each one in the filled sink before pulling it out and setting it aside to be dried. After a moment, Karen felt Will at her side, picking up where Jack had left off with the drying.

"This is nice," he commented. "I didn't know you did this type of thing." He motioned to the sink in front of her; she was up to her elbows in suds.

"Occasionally," she shrugged. "It was nice of you to make dinner, so, you know."

Will smiled slightly at her thoughtfulness. There was a time when he had pictured her doing domestic duties such as this, the time when he had imagined her as his wife in some distant future.

"Listen, Karen," he began, his voice taking a serious tone. He put down the plate he was drying and turned towards her. "About what happened last week in my office…"

"Will, we don't have to talk about," she replied, not taking her focus off of the work in front of her. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry…" when she finally looked at him, she saw the slightest traces of disappointment in his eyes. "…I'm married."

"I know," he nodded. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I-I don't think need to say how we're both feeling, about being suddenly back in each other's lives after all these years…but I wanted you to know that it was - it was nice. And I want to be friends."

"I'd like that," Karen smiled. Will handed her a clean towel and helped her dry off her hands and forearms. His strong hands caressed the soft skin above her wrists, his fingers innocently entwined with hers.

"Oh - you've got some…" Will reached a hand up to Karen's cheek, where a few stray soap suds were dotted. His hand lingered on her face, as she succumbed to his touch. "…soap."

Without being able to help herself, Karen closed the inches between her face and Will's, his lips just as eager and hungry as hers. His hands explored her body as they kissed, hers rested on his chest underneath his shirt. Soon he was picking her up and carrying her into his bedroom, where he shut the door with his foot and tossed her onto his bed.

A couple of hours later, Jack returned after his date with Rudy. He rubbed his tired eyes as he locked the door behind him, then frowned in confusion upon seeing Karen's purse still sitting on the table. It wasn't like her to leave without her purse, but he moved on quickly, shutting off the lights and making his way down the hall to his bedroom across from Will's. But as he passed Will's door, he heard something odd. He heard Will say something in a low voice that he couldn't quite make out, then the unmistakable laugh of Karen Walker. Then a series of soft moans from both of them, and the squeaking of bedsprings.

Jack gasped softly, backed away from the door and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he tried to wrap his brain around what was going on.


	10. She

***Playlist: "She" by Elvis Costello

Will leaned up and looked down at Karen lying next to him; the mauve sheets of his bed were the only thing separating their naked skin from the cool air. Will ran his fingers through her soft brown hair that was pooled on the pillow next to Karen's head. Her hair had grown considerably since they had been re-introduced; now it was almost as long as it had been when they first met. Her brown eyes sparkled up at him as she contemplated his features, defined yet gentle.

"I guess not much has changed," she whispered, a smile playing on her lips.

"I guess not," he answered, matching her smile shyly.

"So much for being friends."

"I don't know how to just be friends with you." He leaned down to softly kiss her lips. "I was never just friends with you."

Karen rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow, mirroring his posture. Her wedding ring was burning into the skin of her finger, and she toyed with it absentmindedly.

"You feel guilty," Will stated, glancing towards her left hand resting on her hip, her thumb spinning the ring around her fourth finger.

"I'm supposed to, right?" she shrugged.

"Is Stan the one who…the one…"

"That I left you for, yes," she completed his thought and answered the question. He gave a slight nod.

"You're happy with him?"

Karen licked her lips and scooted her body closer to Will, wrapping her top leg around his and pulling his lips into hers. He responded by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in tighter to him. She kissed him softly and sweetly, pausing the movement of her lips to just feel the exchange of their breath in their connected mouths. She let his tongue caress hers for a few seconds more before ending their kiss with a small and satisfying pop as their lips disconnected and she leaned her forehead against his. Will closed his eyes and nudged her nose with his, taking in her scent and the feelings that were resurfacing for her within him.

"This is just sex, right?" she whispered. He took a long breath in before answering.

"Right."

"Just like '93."

"The same."

She tilted her mouth to his one last time before pulling herself out of his arms and moving to the edge of the bed.

"I've got to go," she told him, holding the edge of the sheet against her body as she stepped into her panties.

"You sure you don't want to stay over? It's late," Will responded. He wanted her to stay with him more than he was willing to let on. His arms felt useless without her there for them to hold.

"I can't, honey," she told him, pulling her shirt over her head. She walked around to the side of the bed he was laying on and turned her back towards him, allowing him to zip up her skirt. It was an automatic chain of events - doing things exactly as they had been done before. "What will Jack think if he wakes up tomorrow and I'm here too? Not to mention what Stan would think…"

He spun her back towards him by her hips and she bent down to place a small kiss on his lips.

"Bye."

"Bye."

"Karen!"

She paused in front of his door; her hand froze on the knob and she looked at him over her shoulder.

"We uh, we should do this again sometime," he told her, his voice slightly unsteady. She looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up at him.

"I need some time to think about this, honey." She turned the knob and pushed the door open a crack before she turned back again. "But thanks." He smiled at her, that smile that simultaneously melted her heart and gave her butterflies in her stomach. She closed the door behind her and tiptoed down the hall, grabbed her purse from the couch and left.

…

When she arrived back at the manse and flipped on the light in the entry way, she found Stan snoring in the leather chair across from the door. On any other night she would've been touched that he had been waiting up for her, but tonight the sight of him made her stomach turn. She went to him and knelt down next to him, stroking his forehead gently as his eyes fluttered open.

"I'm home," she told him softly. He stirred in the chair and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Good, I was worried."

"I'm sorry. We all had a little too much to drink and I lost track of the time," she lied, grabbing his hands to lead him back up to their bedroom. He nodded sleepily and followed her up the stairs.

By the time she crawled into bed next to him after changing out of her clothes and brushing her teeth, Stan was fast asleep. He was on his side not facing her, and she couldn't help but notice the difference in postures between her husband and Will. Will always slept right next to her, curled around her protectively, while Stanley liked to keep his distance in the bed and remain undisturbed throughout the night.

Karen reached over to the bedside table next to her and pulled open the top drawer. Her hands dug through a few odds and ends - an old box of condoms, some lacy lingerie, and the case for her reading glasses - before grasping a small photograph tucked into the deepest corner. She pulled it out and relaxed back onto the bed. The soft glow of the lamp next to her illuminated the picture - a photograph of Karen holding Elena seconds after she had been born. A nurse had taken it without Karen's knowledge. She ran her finger over the little pink bundle in the picture, which was growing faint from time and the oils of her fingers . She looked at her own face, bent down toward her new daughter, beaming with genuine happiness. Although in reality this was just a brief moment in time that Karen would feel like that, when she looked at this picture she liked to pretend that it was just the beginning of a life filled with happiness with her child. She closed her eyes and pretended that Elena was asleep in her bedroom down the hall, probably clutching a little stuffed doll.

Stan stirred next to her and she looked at his sleeping form. He always ruined this fantasy for her, primarily because he wasn't a part of it. Elena wasn't his daughter - she didn't look like him in the slightest - and Karen could never picture him as her father in the fantasy of a perfect life with Elena.

She put the picture back into the drawer and closed it, then turned off the light. As she settled back into bed she closed her eyes and tried to pick up where she had left off. She would creep down the hall and peek into Elena's room to see her sleeping peacefully, then tiptoe back into her bedroom where her husband would be waiting for in their bed. She would crawl in next to him and snuggle up into the crook of his arms, and she realized it was always Will that she was going back to. It would always be Will.


	11. Oh Me, Oh My

***Playlist: "Oh Me, Oh My" by Imogen Heap

The next morning Karen awoke to an empty bed. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, not at all surprised that her husband was already gone. She sighed, kicking her legs off the side of the bed and finding her slippers on the floor next to her.

"Good morning, Miss Karen," Rosario announced, bursting through the bedroom door with a tray of breakfast foods and making her way to Karen.

"Morning, Ro Ro," Karen replied. "Did Stan leave already?" She took the tray of food from Rosario and set it on the table next to her, picking a piece of bacon up from the plate and crunching into it.

"Yes, he did," Rosario replied.

"Did he leave any message for me? Any plans for lunch?"

"No, I don't think so."

Karen frowned but nodded. Stan used to always leave her a morning note before he left for work, since she was almost always asleep when he did. Lately, though, those little tokens of affection were becoming rare, especially after nights like last night.

"Did he seem OK this morning?" Karen asked, settling back against the pillows of the bed while she sipped her morning screwdriver. Rosario hesitated, standing at the end of the bed looking down at her hands. "Well?"

"Miss Karen, I know it's not my place to say anything," Rosario began. Karen took another sip of her drink and rolled her eyes, but let her maid continue. "Mr. Stan doesn't like when you're gone."

"When I'm gone? Where do I go? I'm always here."

"You know what I mean."

"I told him when I got home last night that I lost track of the time."

"You've been distant lately," Rosario countered. "He's noticed. Sometimes when a man feels neglected, he feels…disrespected."

"I've heard enough," Karen interjected, standing from the bed. She strode past Rosario and into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. As she stepped into the shower, she brushed off Rosario's words and focused on the warm water caressing her skin. The memory of Will's hands on her body overtook her, and as she closed her eyes beneath the flow of the showerhead, she thought of his kisses, his whispers.

After fixing her hair and applying her makeup, she dressed in a hurry - the extra time she spent in the shower lost in her thoughts had put her slightly behind schedule. She slipped into her stilettos and rummaged through the drawers of her dresser, looking for a bracelet that she wanted to wear. Frustrated that she couldn't find it, she turned her attention toward her bedside table. She shuffled through the drawers, but she didn't find the bracelet. On her second pass through the top drawer, her hand brushed the picture of her and Elena, and she grabbed it on an impulse and stuffed it into her purse.

…

Later that day, Grace looked over at Karen's empty desk wearily. It was almost 4 p.m. but Karen had yet to return from lunch. All day Grace had been working on a sketch of a spa room for one of her clients, and she had finally come up with something she was satisfied with. Now she needed to call the client to set up a meeting to discuss her plans for the room. Not finding the phone number she needed anywhere on her work table, she picked her Rolodex up off of her desk and flipped through it, searching the K section for Kowoloski. But the contact card wasn't there - and it was then that she remembered she had given it to Karen to make a copy of, which she was sure Karen hadn't yet done.

Grace sighed and put her Rolodex back on her desk, then walked over to Karen's desk. She scanned the desktop for any sign of the little white index card, pushing bottles of nail polish and a martini shaker off to one side. She looked under a stack of fashion magazines and all around the phone, but the card was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, Grace sat down in Karen's chair and reached out to the handle of the top drawer of the desk.

She pulled it open cautiously after checking to make sure that Karen wasn't coming down the hall; she was suddenly scared of getting caught. She really had no reason to feel this way - it was _her_ office, after all. But although she and Karen were friends, they weren't particularly close, and she wasn't sure how Karen would feel about her going through her things. Either way, she really needed to find that card, and so she began a careful search of the desk drawers.

The top drawer was void of anything interesting - just a pill box and a few nail files. The contact card wasn't in the second drawer, either, but just as Grace was about to close the drawer, something caught her eye. Wedged up against the side of the drawer was a photograph, slightly faded and crinkled, and Grace couldn't make out what it was of, so she pulled it out. She gasped aloud when she saw the image of Karen, lying in a hospital bed looking haggard and holding a newborn baby. As far as Grace knew, Karen didn't have any children of her own. Obviously this picture proved otherwise. But why would Karen not tell her about a child? Where was this infant now? Grace flipped it over in her hands, looking for a date. At first glance it didn't look like there was one, but then she noticed in the bottom corner a tiny marking made in pencil that was rubbing off: "July 16, 1994."

Suddenly the sound of Karen's stilettos clacking against the tile of the hall reached Grace's ears, followed by the sound of Jack giggling. Grace shoved the picture back into the drawer and ran back to her desk, trying her best to look natural as Karen and Jack entered the office. She knew she shouldn't ask Karen about the picture or the baby, but for some reason she was yearning to know the whole story. She smiled at Karen as she took her seat behind her desk, and tried to push this startling revelation to the back of her mind.


	12. Bittersweet Faith

***Playlist: "Bittersweet Faith" by Bitter:Sweet

Karen rapped her fingers on the mahogany desktop in the library of the manse, her address book shaking slightly in her other hand. Her index finger was stuck in the middle of the book, at the beginning of the "T" section. The clock on the wall adjacent to the desk ticked away slowly, punctuating the silence of the room. Her eyes massaged the receiver of the phone sitting in front of her; everything in her mind was screaming at her not to do this, but everything in her heart was telling her she had to. She bit her lip, exhaled, and picked up the phone.

…

Will felt Karen's presence behind him before he actually turned around to look at her.

"Thanks for meeting me," she greeted him, taking the stool next to him at the bar of her favorite lounge. It was quiet and serene here, unlike most of the night-life establishments in this neighborhood. Soft jazz music played over the surround sound system, and there were no television sets on behind the bar, just a lovely display of elegantly-lit liquor bottles against a glass backdrop.

"Is everything OK?" he responded. Karen couldn't help but be amused by the worry etched across his face.

"Of course, honey, why wouldn't it be?" The bartender was in front of her now, waiting for her drink order, and she simply swirled her index finger over the top of Will's Old Fashioned to indicate that she would have the same.

"The last time you asked me to meet you at a bar I didn't see you for the next four years," he reminded her, swirling the skinny black straw of his drink. If he hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have noticed the slight twitch of Karen's face, the only sign of her discomfort as his statement amidst her calm and collected demeanor.

"I just wanted to talk to you," she assured him, flashing a sly smile to smooth over the awkwardness between them from his last comment. "We're supposed to be friends, right?"

Will chuckled and took a big gulp of his drink as the bartender placed an identical one in front of Karen. She thanked him and took it in her right hand, turning her stool towards Will to initiate their conversation.

"So when did you become gay?"

"Wow, you cut right to the chase, don't you?" he smiled.

"You seriously think I haven't been wanting to ask you that for about a year now?"

"I guess it's a fair question."

"I guess."

"To tell you the truth, I've always been…intrigued…by men," his eyes darted to Karen's perfectly plump red lips as she raised her glass to them. "You may be surprised to know that I can count the number of women I've been with on one hand."

She was surprised by that, but she didn't let it show.

"So why is it that Grace thinks you're 100% homo?"

"Well," Will shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Grace and for the first time broke his gaze with Karen, "this isn't something I'm particularly proud of, but in a lot of ways it's just easier." He paused and looked back towards Karen as he took another drink. "For her to think that."

Karen nodded in understanding; it was no secret that Grace was in love with Will, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

"You're a good friend," she told him, placing her hand on top of his on the bar. He frowned.

"You think so?" She nodded. "You are an enigma, Karen Walker."

"Why is that?" she asked, cocking her head to one side at his odd sentiment.

"I've never told anyone what I just told you about Grace because I am 100% positive that they would think less of me for the cowardice of it. But you - you actually found the _good_ side of it." He motioned for the bartender to refill his drink as he continued. "And you're the last person I would've expected that from."

"This is a different tune from the one you were whistling in Grace's office a couple of weeks ago," Karen remarked, referencing his harsh critique of her personality. He shrugged.

"Like I said, enigma." He paused. "And I may have been a little harsh that day. I hope there are no hard feelings."

"No," Karen said, shaking her head. "But I thought you would've figured that out after I opened my legs for you twice since then." It was a bold statement, but her broad smile lightened the weight of it, and Will smiled too.

"Speaking of," he began, finding her hand on the table once again and interlacing his fingers with hers, "have you given anymore thought to that situation?"

The smile remained of Karen's face, but her eyes suddenly lost some of their sparkle. Of course she had thought about it - she'd been thinking about it non-stop for over a week. She couldn't start anything with Will; she was married, and she wanted to honor that. But she couldn't lie to herself, either. Her relationship with Stan had been slowly faltering for the past 18 months, ever since he disappeared for a month and returned with no explanation. Karen had been glad to have him home after not knowing what had happened to him, but something between them was undeniably different. And now, being here with Will, she wanted nothing more than to go home with him and spend the night in his arms. She wouldn't do that of course - at least not tonight - but she didn't want to set any rules only to break them.

"I should go," she stated, answering his question with her avoidance. She stood from the stool and he nodded sadly. She pulled a wad of bills from the pocket of her Burberry trench coat and slapped them on the counter in front of Will before leaning down to place a soft kiss on his lips.

He watched her pass through the sparsely-populated lounge, moving gracefully despite wearing four-inch stilettos, her long hair swaying behind her gently with each step she took. The door closed behind her with an unsatisfactory "thud," and for whatever reason, Will was left with the feeling that he was about to get his heart broken by Karen Walker. Again.


	13. Ruled by Secrecy

***Playlist: "Ruled by Secrecy" by Muse

Karen felt light after her meeting with Will, like she was walking on air. She always felt that way when she spent time with him, and she was beginning to get used to it. She couldn't promise him anything - actually she couldn't even give him a sense of her frame of mind regarding their use of each other's bodies - but she felt oddly like they were drawing closer and closer to some sort of turning point. Until then, though, she was going to have to enjoy this feeling he gave her while she could. And as soon as she stepped into the foyer of the manse, that feeling was replaced with an overt repressiveness.

The lights in the foyer were dimmed, and she heard the clanking of silverware come from the dining room to her right, accompanied by the murmur of low voices. Mason and Olivia were with their mother this week, so she knew it couldn't be them that Stan was conversing with. As she approached the dining room, however, her confusion turned to panic as she remembered that she and Stan were supposed to be hosting a business dinner with two other couples that evening.

"Shit," she muttered, and checked her watch. It was only 20 minutes past the time when their guests had been scheduled to arrive, so she smoothed her hair and her dress before making her entrance into the dining room.

"There she is now," Stan greeted her boisterously, as four pairs of strangers' eyes turned towards her. He stood as she made her way to the table, as did the other two men at the table. One woman, seated at the opposite end of the table from Stan, looked Karen up and down with beady eyes that grotesquely complimented her angular facial features.

"Tom, Richard," Stan addressed the two men, "this is my wife, Karen."

The men extended their hands to Karen and she shook each in turn, making an apology for her tardiness and smoothing it over with a lie about being caught in traffic after a charity event.

"Right, then. Karen, may I borrow you for a moment?" Stan asked. He smiled at his guests. "Karen is much better than I am at selecting wine," he chortled. The man named Tom gave a polite nod as he sat back down next to his pointy wife, and the Richard gave a polite chuckle. "Excuse us for a just a moment."

Before she knew it, Karen was being whisked into the kitchen by Stan, whose cheerful demeanor turned dark as soon as the door swung closed behind them, effectively separating them from their dinner guests.

"Where the hell have you been?" Stan's voice was low and sharp and pierced Karen like a knife as she turned her back on him to survey the 6-foot wine rack.

"I told you, I got caught in traffic," she responded confidently, running her hand over the myriad of bottles protruding from the wooden structure. She could hear Stan seething behind her.

"You made me look like a fool," he growled, moving closer to her. Her hand came to rest on a bottle with a black label on the right side of the rack. She pulled it out as she turned back towards him, her eyes narrowed.

"Stanley, I apologized to them. I explained myself. You're not my babysitter, this doesn't reflect badly on you. I was the rude one."

"Of course it reflects badly on me; you know how these things work," he responded, snatching the bottle from her hand a little too roughly. His elbow caught her forearm as he pulled it away from her, his emphatic grab just enough to knock her backwards, causing her to stumble into the wine rack. The bottles clanked as they were jostled in their wooden compartments, and Karen caught her breath as she lost her footing and fell into the counter next to her, the alcohol in her bloodstream from the bar hindering her ability to recover from the blow.

Stan moved in to help set her back upright, catching a whiff of the alcohol on her breath as he did so.

"Jesus, Karen," he snarled, grasping her upper arms roughly to make her face him. "_Where were you?"_

"I told you," Karen choked out, trying to remain her control despite how unnerved she was by Stan's aggressive hold on her.

"Don't lie to me!" He pulled her closer to him, shaking her slightly as he did so. She felt his fingernails digging into her skin through the fabric of her sleeves.

"I just had a quick drink with Will," she whispered, avoiding the burning malice in his eyes. "I forgot about dinner, I'm sorry."

"Will?" Stan asked, his grip loosening on her arms as his anger was momentarily replaced with confusion. "What are you doing spending so much time with him?"

"We're friends," she told him meekly.

"Friends?" he laughed in her face. "Who would be friends with you?" He released her from his grasp roughly, and almost as soon as he did felt the burning slap of her palm against his cheek.

Karen looked away, her breathing heavy as she anticipated his response. But instead of reacting, Stan just stood there, staring at her in silence. Neither of them moved for what felt like an hour. When Karen finally met his eyes again, she was ashamed of the sadness she had caused to fill them.

"Bring the wine, please," he whispered, before turning on his heel and going back into the dining room. With shaking hands, Karen smoothed the sleeves of her dress and picked up the bottle of wine, then plastered on a phony smile before following her husband into the other room.


	14. Inside of Love

***Playlist: "Inside of Love" by Nada Surf

Will paused for a moment at the edge of his kitchen counter, the three glasses of wine he had drank over the course of the last hour finally starting to hit him. He regained his balance before navigating the two steps down into the living room to join Karen, Grace, and Jack, who were sitting around the coffee table, engaged in a game of Pyramid. Jack and Karen had just finished their turn and were waiting for Will to return so that he and Grace could continue the game.

Grace jumped up in front of the fireplace as Will refilled her wine glass, abandoned on the coffee table in front of where she had been sitting on the couch. Karen took the bottle from him and filled her own empty glass as he took his place next to Grace.

"You ready to win this one, baby?" Grace asked him, her voice amplified in volume and confidence by the alcohol she had consumed.

"I was born ready," Will stated. He high-fived Grace.

"Ok you guys," Jack began, preparing to flip over the sand timer. "Go!"

"Sleepless in Seattle, Forrest Gump - " Grace was practically shouting her clues, clutching the small piece of yellow paper in her hand that contained the answer she was trying to get out of Will.

" - Tom Hanks!" he shouted in return. He was right, of course, so Grace threw the slip of paper and moved on to the next one.

"Yahtzee, shooting craps, to hang on your rearview mirror -"

" - things you need dice for!"

"Your last four relationships."

"Things that have failed," Will answered, shooting Grace and icy look. She brushed it off, continuing on with her next set of clues. From the couch, Karen and Jack howled with laughter.

"Your dollar out of a vending machine, words, wasted time -"

" - things you can never get back!"

The clock ran out and Jack called time. Will and Grace high-fived again and Will stole a quick glance at Karen whose laughter had suddenly subsided. She wasn't smiling anymore.

"Come on, Kare," Jack squealed, grabbing Karen's hand to pull her from the chair she sat in so that they could take their turn in front of the fireplace.

"Jackie would you mind if we took a little break?" Karen asked him sweetly, standing but not moving toward him. "I need some fresh air."

Jack nodded and before anyone could protest, Karen rushed from the room onto the small balcony adjacent to Will's kitchen. When she heard the click of the double doors behind her she exhaled, letting out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. _Things you can never get back. Things you can never get back. _That afternoon when she had returned home, the brown envelope without a return address had been waiting for her. She couldn't believe it had already been a year; a year since she and Will had been thrust back into each others' lives, a year since her daughter had last blown out her birthday candles. Another picture of Elena in front of her birthday cake had been included in this year's package of photos, but this time there were five candles on the cake instead of four. She would be starting kindergarten soon, and Karen supposed that next year's envelope would contain a picture from her first day of school. She smiled thinking about it, pressing her bare arms against the cool metal of the railing on the balcony, a stark contrast from the muggy July evening air.

"What happened to you?"

Karen was caught off guard by Will's voice but not altogether surprised that he had followed her out here. She had grown used to his protective hovering, his constant inquisition about every aspect of her life. Rather than finding it annoying, as she would have if it had been anyone else, she was beginning to quite like the comfort of always having him around and alert. She turned to face him, offering a small smile as he tossed her a pack of cigarettes.

"I found those in your purse," he explained, resting his forearms on the railing next to her. "Thought you might want one."

"Thanks," she replied, pulling a cigarette from the pack and placing it between her lips. Will's hand met it with her lighter in a flash. The end glowed orange and she inhaled deeply, the smoke filling her lungs as the alcohol in her blood buzzed around in her head. She drew a different pleasure from these sensations than most people did; instead of using them for fun she used them for survival. For the past five years she had felt empty, and used cigarettes and booze to fill her - even if it was only by means of smoke and dizziness.

"You know you used to tell me everything that was bothering you," Will said. They were both leaning against the railing, avoiding each others' eyes and instead looking out over the street below them. Karen counted the cabs she saw pass as way to keep her mind focused on something other than the lust boiling up in her stomach towards Will, relaxed and beautiful and at her side. But she couldn't ignore his words, which were of course, true. When they had first met he had been her confidant. She never talked to him about Stan - the topic of their other romantic relationship was one that fell outside the bounds of the rules they had established for themselves - but everything else she shared with him. Her desires, her fears, her insecurities, her tumultuous relationship with her mother. As she appeared to the outside world, as Stanley Walker's girlfriend, Karen was a closed book. But in Will's arms, she was an endless novel that he couldn't get enough of.

"Do you want one?" she asked, motioning towards the pack of cigarettes resting on the railing between them. He shook his head.

"I don't smoke anymore."

"You've changed."

"You haven't," he countered. Her face snapped towards his and he smiled softly. "I can always tell when you're upset."

"Who says I'm upset?"

"Alright, maybe 'upset' isn't the right word. But you can't lie to me, Karen. Something happened to you during the years I was without you. I can feel it right now; I can see it every day in your eyes. They're heavier, somehow."

"Is that how you think of them? The 'years you were without me'?" Karen asked, once again avoiding his advances toward a subject she wasn't yet prepared to talk about.

"I don't know how else to characterize them. They were unremarkable; your absence was their only defining trait."

Karen couldn't help but smile at this, and soon she was leaning into him just enough to brush her lips lightly across his. Her cigarette burned between her fingers, the smoke twisting and twirling up into the night sky.

When they heard the rattle of the doors behind them, Karen and Will broke apart.

"Karen are you done out here?" Jack asked, his voice full of a joyful impatience. "We've got a game to win!"

Karen stubbed out her cigarette and tossed it off the balcony before turning to follow Jack back inside.

"You bet, Poodle."

"Bring it on," Will challenged, following behind her back into his apartment. She giggled as he playfully slapped her ass and pulled the doors closed behind them.

When they got back to the couches, Will saw that Grace had her disposable camera out. He grabbed it and snapped a candid picture of her picking something out of her teeth, and enraged, she snatched the camera from his hands. Realizing what she was about to do, Will grabbed Karen around the waist, emboldened in his tipsy state, and pulled her into him just as Grace snapped the picture. She squirmed, her face beaming with flirtation as she slapped his arm away and took her place next to Jack.


	15. Whatever Put Us Back Together

***Playlist: "Whatever" by Imogen Heap

"Put Us Back Together" by Headlights

After Grace went back across the hall to her apartment, it was just Jack and Will left in his kitchen. Karen had called it a night an hour earlier, telling that she needed to make it home to spend the rest of the evening with Stan on his birthday. Will was putting the remaining dishes in the dishwasher as Jack watched from the opposite side of the counter, his head propped up on his forearms, his elbows resting on the granite counter.

"Hey," Will addressed Jack, turning towards him as he closed the dishwasher and leaned back against it, "what do you know about Karen?"

"What do you mean?" Jack answered his question with a question.

"I mean, you know," Will struggled, "you guys seem close, and she's just so…weird, you know? I wonder what made her that way."

"Why do you care?"

"Because…she's my friend."

"Jack confused," Jack said, moving into the kitchen to stand opposite Will on the other side of the counter.

"Forget it," Will conceded, pulling two bottles of water out of the refrigerator. "I was just curious."

"Wait a minute," Jack pondered, suddenly growing introspective. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you - I had the weirdest dream last week! It was after the last time we were all having dinner here, you know, the night I went out with Rudy? I guess I dreamt that when I came home, Karen 's purse was still sitting on your couch and when I walked by your bedroom door I could hear the two of you having sex." He laughed at the ridiculousness of it as he told the last part.

"Really," Will blanched. He tried to laugh it off, but immediately realized that Jack hadn't dreamed this; although thank God he thought he had.

"Isn't that crazy?" Jack laughed, slapping his knee. Will attempted a chuckle.

"Totally crazy," he lied. "See? Apparently we both have a preoccupation with the mysterious Karen Walker."

"You know, now that you mention it, Grace did tell me something weird that happened in the office a few days ago," Jack confessed, his laughter subsiding.

"What was that?" Will asked, eager for any bit of information that could give him more insight into Karen and why she was avoiding him despite how unhappy she seemed.

"She said she found a picture in Karen's desk," Jack started. "She said it was a picture of Karen holding a newborn baby in a hospital."

"That is weird," Will agreed. "Who would ever trust Karen to hold their baby?"

"No, no, no," Jack protested. "In the picture…Karen was laying in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown…holding a newborn. Like it was hers."

"What?" Will asked, confused. "She doesn't have any kids."

"I know," Jack agreed. "That's what's so weird about it."

"Well did Grace ask her about it?"

"No, she didn't want Karen to know she was snooping around in her stuff," Jack shrugged and took his water bottle with him over to the couch, where he plopped down and flipped on the TV. Will left it at that and went back to cleaning up the kitchen. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about what Jack had told him, though. Did Karen and Stan have a baby that died? Is that what was weighing her down so much? That certainly made sense. His heart began to break for her; it was so easy for him to see the sadness in her eyes, a sadness that so far he had been powerless to erase. But the want to erase it, the _need_, was boiling in his stomach and it didn't take him long to recognize what these feelings meant.

….

On the other side of town, Rosario ran her toweled hand around the inside of a wine glass, relishing the squeak of the cotton against the glass as it dried. She whistled a soft tune as she picked up another glass and dunked it into the sink full of soapy water.

What she heard coming from upstairs disturbed her greatly. _A marriage shouldn't be like this,_ she thought. Night after night she heard the same thing, and as much as she tried to pretend that what was going on upstairs in fact wasn't, she knew she was lying to herself. So she whistled louder, scrubbed more furiously to try and make it disappear.

Rosario had been working for Karen for almost 15 years, and yet, there were still some things that she didn't dare bring up in conversation. Karen's marriage was one, Elena the other. Six years ago it had been Rosario who had bought Karen a pregnancy test and helped her through those nine months. It had been Rosario who had provided a shoulder for Karen to cry on for months after she gave the baby up for adoption. And it had been Rosario who had watched the fabric of Stan and Karen's marriage slowly unravel, one thread at a time because of the secrets they both were keeping.

When she had written the first letter to Mr. and Mrs. Newman, begging them to send Karen something - anything - to keep her attached to the little piece of her heart that she had given away, she had never imagined how much damage it would do. She was thrilled when Karen received that first envelope full of pictures in the mail when Elena turned one, but nearly recoiled in horror when she saw the look on Stan's face when he had ripped the pictures from his wife's hands. Rosario had spent three hours that night taping the pictures of the infant back together again. She praised God when, after weeks of fighting, Stan had apologized to Karen and agreed that she should be allowed to keep that small bit of contact with her daughter.

It was getting to her again. As she finished drying the last wine glass, she banged the cupboards open and shut as loudly as she possibly could, not wanting to hear anymore. You see, she just couldn't take the silence. The silence that she knew was total isolation of two people in the rooms above her who were pretending to be in a marriage. The silence that grew louder with each passing night.


	16. Great Divide

***Playlist: "Sonnet" by The Verve

"Great Divide" by The Cardigans

"That shirt is hideous," Karen observed, tugging lightly on the sleeve of Will's green and yellow checked shirt.

"I know," he responded, burying his hands in his pockets as he and Karen continued on the winding path through Central Park. "Grace gave it to me for my birthday last year and she asked me yesterday why I never wear it." He shrugged. Children's laughter floated through the air as a gaggle of six-year olds ran past them, a tired-looking mother following close behind. Dogs barked in the distance as the bright sun beat down on them. They were strolling casually, awkwardly close to each other -barely touching. Karen had called Will out of the blue earlier that afternoon. The two had barely spoken for a week after their last get together at Will's apartment, but then suddenly his cell phone was vibrating with her name lighting up the screen.

"So what is it you wanted to talk about?" he asked, squinting at her through his aviator sunglasses. She glanced at him before turning her focus back towards the sidewalk. "Have you thought about my proposition?" he prodded, hoping she had decided to pick up where they had left off five years earlier.

"No," she replied. "Although it is concerning a matter of the heart," she added, a bit of levity in her voice. Will furrowed his brow.

"Are you and Stan having problems?"

"You could say that," she sighed. "I wake up in the mornings -" she took a long breath, allowing the stinging wave in her eyes to pass before she continued, " - and I don't know the person laying next to me."

"I hesitate to even suggest this," Will began, having a pretty good feeling of how Karen would react to his proposal, "but maybe you two should seek marital counseling." To his surprise, Karen didn't laugh at this suggestion.

"We already tried that," she answered, before looking over at him as they crossed a little bridge. "Interesting that you would suggest that, though, considering you've been trying to get in my pants for the past six months." Will abruptly stopped walking and grabbed her wrist gently, also halting her motion.

"I want you to be happy." She gave him a soft smile and reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. He relished the feeling of her soft skin on his face, closing his eyes as he nuzzled into her hand. She stepped toward him as he encircled her wrist with his hand and reached for her waist, drawing her into him. Her hand slid from his cheek to his neck, her fingers toying with the hair on the nape of his neck. He rested his forehead against hers and breathed in her scent as the sounds of the park melted away behind him.

And just as soon as the moment had engulfed him, it abandoned him and he felt her leaving his arms. He opened his eyes as her hands left him to see her step over to the railing of the bridge and lean against it, exactly as she had done on the balcony of his apartment days before. He took a moment before he joined her, allowing himself to shake off the desire that was stirring within him. She had her stomach pressed against the wall of the bridge, her elbows resting lightly on the top of the railing as she gazed out over the water beneath them. He stood a foot away from her and leaned his back against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other as he stared in the opposite direction.

"You don't know this, but I was married twice before I met Stan," Karen stated.

"What?" Will was genuinely shocked. She had never told him about any other husbands she had lurking in her past.

"I was very young when I married my first husband. And very stupid when I married the second," she told him. "When Stanley and I were married, I thought it would be different. And it was, for a little while. He was…different than the rest. I thought I truly loved him. So when things started going badly, I wanted to do anything I could to save the marriage."

"But?"

"But it was just a temporary fix. We went to counseling twice a week for three months. We learned how to communicate better during sex -" Will flinched, " - we went on trips together, just the two of us. We did everything we were supposed to. But I guess the instruction manual isn't much good if you're missing the screws."

Will took a long, deep breath in, and Karen knew he was thinking before he spoke. It was one defining characteristic about him that she loved when they were together - he thought about what he said before he said it. She had noticed quickly after their reintroduction that he didn't do this with everyone else. Usually he was quick to judge and offer his advice with his friends, even if it wasn't asked for. But whenever she had brought him a trouble that was weighing on her heart, he gave genuine thought to it. She loved that - it made her feel like she was unloading her problems on a wise sage whose infinite wisdom could fix any problem. Today, though, Will didn't have an answer.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked softly, turning around to mimic her posture against the railing while still keeping his distance. He could've sworn he saw her smile.

"I think I want to leave him."

….

Stan could never find Karen's checkbook when he needed it during his weekly Saturday-afternoon bill-paying sessions. He had gone through every stack of papers and magazines he could find in the manse - checking on countertops, coffee tables, and desks. He grew frustrated as he entered the master suite, scanning the room for any sign of the black leather book.

Not seeing any trace of it in the immediate vicinity, he moved into Karen's gigantic walk-in closet off of the far corner of the bedroom. He flicked on the light and immediately tripped over a pair of his wife's stilettos, eliciting a stinging swear word as he kicked the shoes out of his way. He gave a half-assed effort at going through the racks of clothes hanging on the walls around him, but he knew Karen rarely wore anything with pockets and he had already checked all of her handbags.

As he re-entered their bedroom, pulling the door to the closet closed behind him, something caught his eye on Karen's side of the bed. He went to her bedside table and was relieved to see the thin, rectangular shape of Karen's checkbook. When he flipped it open, though, it was only blank checks - the register was missing, and of course, this was the part he needed most. With a grunt he tossed the leather booklet back onto the top of the small table and pulled open the top drawer.

When his hand encircled the stack of pictures of Elena, half-buried beneath a pink silk negligee, Stan's frustration grew further. Of course he would stumble across the part of his wife's past that he loathed the most when all he was trying to do was find her damn record of checks she had written. Because he was already pissed off, with contempt he shuffled through the stack, watching the little girl grow before his eyes as the pictures progressed. And then he came upon a new photograph, unfamiliar in its subject.

This photo was not of the little girl with the curly hair and bright grin, but rather, Karen and Will. Stan frowned as he puzzled over the picture, in which his wife was tangled in the arms of their lawyer. He was struck by how odd this image was, not only because of the uncommon pairing of people, but because of how joyful Karen looked. He studied her face, the fine lines he normally couldn't help but notice suddenly erased; a genuine smile on her face. And then he studied Will's face - and suddenly, something clicked.

Stan flipped back through the stack of pictures and pulled out one of the more recent photos of Elena, a closeup of her toothy smile. In a fit of insanity and anxiety, he laid it on the bed next to the one of Will and Karen. As he compared, he sank to his knees in front of the edge of the bed - finding the checkbook suddenly not a priority. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, and then couldn't believe he had never noticed it before.

Elena looked exactly like Will.


	17. Any Other Name

***Playlist: "Any Other Name" by Thomas Newman

_November 1996_

Stan's eyes grew lazy as he stared out of the limousine window. They started crossing as the passing fields turned to houses, all exactly the same as the next, with a square, green lawn and white picket fence. He tapped the toe of his leather shoe against the bottom of the upholstered seat as he flipped an orange post-it note over in his hand, using the pad of his index finger to feel the sharp corners. The limo slowed.

"6429," Stan shouted up to the driver, and mere seconds later, the limo rolled to a stop in front of one of the many unremarkable homes on this suburban street. Stan rolled his window down four inches and studied the red front door. _How cliché, _he thought. He had seen the 'big white house with the red front door' in countless movies, and the irony that this exact type of house was the one he now had to approach made him want to vomit.

Next to him, the car phone rang. He let it get half-way through the second ring before picking it up out of the cradle a fraction of an inch and dropping it back down, effectively silencing the call.

"Let me out here," Stan instructed Driver, and the car came to a complete stop. Stan swung the heavy door open slowly, then gingerly put his right foot down onto the curb, then the left. Soon he was standing, still leaning on the limo door for support, staring up at the house that loomed in front of him. "I'll be about an hour."

It was 30 paces to the front door. He rapped twice with his knuckles before pushing the doorbell. He heard the faint "ding dong" from somewhere inside, followed by the muffled barks of a dog. Thirty seconds passed - and although he could hear commotion inside the house, no one came to the door. Impatient, he pressed the doorbell again. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to use the fabric of his pants to dry his sweaty palms as he finally saw a dark figure approaching through the frosted glass.

A woman opened the door, a toddler balanced on her hip.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her brow furrowed at the large man in front of her and the limo parked on the quiet suburban street behind him. The little girl smiled at him shyly as the dog tried to make his way through the opening between the door and the woman's legs.

"Uh - yes, yes I'm -" Stan hesitated as he eyed the woman. Her hair was a dirty blonde and pulled into a haphazard ponytail; her skin still tan despite the fact that summer was long gone. Stan extended his hand towards her. "My name is Stan. I wanted to talk to you about Elena."

Upon hearing this strange man say her daughter's name, the woman grew tense. She stared suspiciously at Stan's out-stretched hand and took a small step backward, almost as though retreating into her home. Her husband, a gentle-looking man with fine lines around his eyes and mouth appeared from the hall behind her.

"Let me clarify," Stan started, sensing their uneasiness. The man put a protective hand on his wife's shoulder. "I'm Stanley Walker, Karen Walker's husband. You would probably remember her by her maiden name -"

"Of course I remember Karen," the woman interrupted, relaxing suddenly. She nuzzled Elena's dark curls with her nose. "I'm Cynthia Newman. This is my husband, Todd." Stan shook Todd's hand as Cynthia turned to go back into the house, motioning for Stan to follow her. "Come in, come in."

Ten minutes later, after a round of drinks (a sippy cup for Elena) and small talk, Stan's face turned serious. He edged forward in his chair, in the corner of the Newman family room, a pile of plastic toys at his feet. Elena sat in the corner, babbling to herself as she poured imaginary tea into a toy cup. She had the sweetest little voice, melodic even when she was speaking jibberish. Occasionally she would say something to make herself laugh, and when she did, her smile lit up the room like a lightbulb, drawing even the eye of those whose back was turned towards her.

"The reason I'm here," Stan began, clearing his throat. "The reason…" he began to fidget. The man was a genius in the boardroom and could talk his way out of anything, but this was far more difficult than he could ever imagine. "I wanted to see…well, how are things going with Elena?" he asked, tentative.

Cynthia and Todd exchanged glances.

"Fine," Todd answer. "More than fine, great."

Stan lowered his head and rubbed his brow.

"Why?" Cynthia asked, concern coloring her voice. "Is everything alright?"

"Well, that's the thing," Stan answered. "It's not…everything is not alright." His courage was summoned as he thought of Karen, the woman he loved more than anything and anyone in the world, and how unhappy she had been for the duration of their marriage. How unhappy she had been since even before they were married, in fact. He knew he was losing her. And there was only one thing that could restore the joy to Karen Walker. "Karen has taken this really hard," he mustered, motioning towards Elena. "She sleeps a lot, mopes around. Some days she doesn't even eat."

"Mr. Walker…" Cynthia shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Honest to god the only time she ever smiles is when she gets that package in the mail from you once a year. Or when she sees little children playing in the park. We've been trying for one of our own but it hasn't happened yet - I don't know if it's even possible," Stan was rambling now.

"Mr. Walker, what are you saying?" Todd asked, placing a comforting hand over his wife's on the couch between them. Stan cleared his throat again and turned his gaze away from the couple.

"I want to know…" he paused. "I want to know how much it would take for you to give us back Elena."


	18. In the Backseat

***Playlist: "In the Backseat" by the Arcade Fire

_November 1996_

"Karen signed a contract," Cynthia told him, standing up from the couch. "She can't contact Elena until her 18th birthday."

"Karen isn't doing anything," Stan replied, standing as well. "I came here on my own. Karen doesn't even know I'm here. So how much?"

"Excuse me, Mr. Walker, but you can't _buy_ our daughter from us!" Todd interjected, as Cynthia took a protective step between where Stan was standing and where Elena was playing in the corner across from him.

"She's _not_ your daughter," Stan was growing aggressive. "And didn't you buy her from Karen in the first place?" Todd bristled and stuck his hands in his pockets, drawing a deep breath.

"I think you'd better leave."

"I know I'm asking a lot. But I'm prepared to give you five million dollars. Think about it, Todd. That's enough to take care of you and Cynthia for the rest of your lives, and more than enough to adopt another child. Karen is her mother. She needs her child."

Todd shifted his weight as his gaze travelled to the floor. Across the room, Cynthia scooped Elena up and held her tightly in her arms.

"Todd!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Walker, your wife may have given birth to Elena, but she is _not_ her mother. I am. And there is no way in hell I'm going to let you leave here with my daughter. Please leave."

Elena squirmed in Cynthia's arms, her tiny brow furrowed as the voices of the adults around her grew louder. She might have only been two years old, but it was obvious she could sense the tension in the room. Stan flinched as he watched her begin to pout, making the same face that Karen made whenever she didn't get her way.

Stan had been seeing that face from his wife more and more lately. When they had first met, he had loved it - how cute she was when she was mad. Of course she hated that he wouldn't take her seriously. But that face wasn't so cute anymore. It was little things she did now that made him angry; the way she would screech his name when he left his dirty socks on the floor in front of the bed, the fact that a new diamond necklace made her smile brighter than a kiss from him did, how she treated his mother with no respect no matter how much he begged her to try to get along with her.

Stan knew he had been fooling himself when he and Karen had first been married - she had never been happy with him. She _was_ happy when he first met her, full life and love and ambition. But just a few months before they became engaged, something changed within her. The obvious thing was her surprise pregnancy - since she and Stan weren't having sex before they married, the baby obviously wasn't his. But despite his anger at her and the tension between the two of them for those nine months, he had told her he would love her unconditionally, and he did. It hadn't taken much convincing from him for her to make the decision to give the baby up, and he was sure that as soon as the baby was born and they were married, things would calm down and they would live the happy life together that he had hoped for when he proposed to her. But even now, two years later, with Elena out of the picture, Karen was still unhappy. Stan had given her everything she could ever want, except a baby. Now he was trying to fix that.

Stan looked between the three of them - Cynthia, Elena, and Todd - before turning towards the front door. Todd followed closely behind him.

"Here's my card," Stan said, stopping in front of the door to hand it to Todd. "If you ever change your mind."

Todd took it cautiously, staring blankly down at it in his hands as Stan let himself out and slowly ambled down the long driveway towards his waiting limo. He got in slowly, being careful not to look at the house again. He had failed, and couldn't suppress the feeling that because of it, his marriage would fail.

"Done so soon, sir?" Driver asked from the front.

"Yes," Stan answered.

"Home, then?"

"No…no, not yet. The Palace Hotel."

Driver nodded and slowly pulled away from the curb. Stan closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the seat, taking long, slow breaths. He couldn't shake the image of Elena's pretty little face - the one he had seen so many times in those pictures that Karen treasured above all else. He remembered the day she was born; passing Cynthia and Todd in the hall outside of Karen's hospital room as they held their new daughter for the first time, a tiny pink bundle. Then Karen, sobbing as she sat up in the hospital bed, the plastic bracelet around her wrist, her hair sweaty and disheveled and the pale skin of her face smudged with her running mascara.

"Karen," he had whispered her name softly as she wept into his shoulder. "Karen." She pulled back from his slightly, looking into his eyes. He reached one hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the little blue Tiffany's box. "I want you to be my wife." She drew a sharp breath between sobs and stared at the box in his hands, now open to expose a beautiful diamond engagement ring. Knowing this moment had been coming, her reaction was less-than exuberant. She simply nodded, rubbing her red eyes with her right hand while Stan slipped the ring on her left hand.

The ringing car phone drew Stan out of the memory. No doubt it would be Karen, again. And again, he picked up the receiver just enough to let it fall back into the cradle, ending the call with a satisfying _click_.

Out the window, the Manhattan skyline was just becoming visible. Stan took comfort in the familiar sight, but knew he couldn't go home. He couldn't face Karen, her questions, her sighs, another loveless night. He was tired. Soon, he could rest all he wanted in the comfort of a suite at the Palace Hotel. And in time, when he was ready, he would go back to her. Until then, he just continued to breath. In, out. In, out.


	19. The Moment I Said It

***Playlist: "The Moment I Said It," by Imogen Heap

The sound of shattering glass tore through the air of the penthouse with a deafening crack. Karen closed the door gently behind her, immediately uneasy from the sounds coming from upstairs. There wasn't a maid in sight as she mounted the stairs and made her way down the upstairs hall towards the bedroom she shared with Stanley.

When she got to open door, she paused, shocked at what she saw. The mattress of the bed was flipped, the sheets torn off and dangling from the railing around the elevated platform the bed sat on. The double doors to her closet were wide open, the lights on and piles of her clothes strewn across the bedroom floor. The portrait of her that hung above the bed was still hanging, but there were several long slash marks across her face and body. A vase that she had bought in Paris that used to sit on a pedestal in the corner had been smashed against the wall, and next to it stood Stan, about to smash another glass sculpture.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled across the room. Upon hearing her voice he paused, his hand clutching the glass ornament raised high above his head. He turned slowly, and Karen gasped when she saw his face, teeming with rage. His eyes were wild and he was perspiring heavily.

"Stanley what -" she was silenced as the glass ornament he was holding smashed against the wall just inches from where she was standing in the doorway. Her eyes wide and mouth agape, she froze on the spot as he stomped toward her.

"You slut," he spat, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her violently.

"You're hurting me," she snarled through clenched teeth. "Stop it!" She managed to push his hands off of her as she stepped into the bedroom to survey the damage he had done. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Do you think I'm stupid, Karen?" he yelled. "Did you really think I'd never find out?"

"Stanley I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" she yelled back, noticing the pile of the pieces of their wedding portrait lying next to where she was standing. "What have you done?" She quickly bent down to pick up the pieces, grabbing one that only contained their entwined hands around her bouquet. As she furiously tried to collect the pieces, Stan came to a stop in front of her. She looked up at him, looming large over her.

"I know about Will."

Karen looked back down at the pieces of photograph.

"I know he's Elena's father."

Karen stood up slowly to her full height, and looked Stan square in the eye.

"So what?" she challenged him. She couldn't deny this truth, but couldn't give him any reason to believe she was still involved with him.

"So you've been spending all of your time with him. You expect me to believe you haven't been fucking him all this time?"

His words elicited a sharp slap across the face from Karen. She tried to move past him towards the door, but he caught her around the waist. She struggled, but he picked her up and carried her over to the askew mattress, throwing her down on it violently.

"I've done nothing but try to make you happy," he choked out. "And this is how you repay me?" He had her wrists pinned on either side of her face, almost his full body weight pressing down on her. She writhed beneath him.

"You've never made me happy," she spat back at him, and grimaced as he bounced on top of her, knocking the wind out of her.

"And Will does? Gay Will? The man that abandoned you while you were pregnant with his child?" Stan's face was so close to hers that his hot breath was making the hair on her neck stand up and her cheeks became spattered with his spit. She didn't answer for several long seconds, turning her face away from his as she carefully considered her words. But as she thought and struggled under his weight, something in her shifted.

"Yes," she whispered, still not looking him in the eye. "Yes, he makes me very happy."

Her admission stopped Stan in his tracks, and they both stopped their struggle. A solitary tear made its way down Karen's cheek. The air between them was thick. Stan released her arms and rolled off of her, standing at the foot of the bed. He stared at her as she turned onto her side away from him, her eyes focused intently on the wall in front of her face.

"You deserve to be happy," he said softly. "I hope you get what you want." He turned and walked slowly toward the door, observing the wreckage he had created around him. Karen had failed to notice his packed suitcase in the hall outside of the door. He grabbed it before sticking his head back in. "I'll be out by midnight."

Karen didn't move for several minutes after Stan left the room, leaving her alone with the debris of their marriage and bedroom. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up slowly, rubbing the bruises that were appearing on her wrists and lower ribcage. As she stood, the tears began to fall. They didn't stop as she moved through her closet, packing a bag, or as she rode in the back of a cab to the Upper West Side, or as she stepped out of the elevator and knocked on Will's door. Only as he pulled her inside his bedroom and held her shaking hands, kissed her neck and undid her hair, did the tears stop.


	20. Braid of Voices

***Playlist: "Braid of Voices" by DM Stith

Will breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of Karen's hair and warm neck. He turned his face to the left and planted a series of soft kisses on the skin behind her ear before moving his mouth back to hers and capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Her fingertips trailed up his back and her she ran her foot up the outside of his leg as they breathed each other's breath, naked beneath his sheets. The first time they had made love, Will pushed his duvet to the floor, and now the top sheet skimmed his lower back as he entered Karen for the second time that night.

When he did, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him tightly to her as he rested his forehead between her ear and shoulder, breathing steadily into her neck. As his thrusts grew stronger and the heat within her core began to rise, she nipped at the crook of his neck and grasped his shoulders firmly from behind. She moaned as he pulled her up onto his lap so that they were both sitting upright. Their arms and legs wrapped firmly and tightly around each other, they were as close as two people could physically be as she bounced in time with his upward thrusts into her.

The senses of the room faded out as her orgasm hit her minutes later, her vision dimming slightly as the sounds of Will's breathing and heartbeat became muffled. Will let out a deep, throaty, exclamation as he came inside of her, and soon they were laying back against the pillows again, side by side, their fingers entwined.

"That was exactly what I needed," Karen sighed, rolling onto her side to wrap an arm across Will's torso as she snuggled up to him.

"Ditto," he replied, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He rubbed her upper arm. "So are you going to tell me what happened?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about the events that had unfolded at the manse earlier that evening.

"When I got back from seeing you at the park, Stanley was going crazy," she told him softly. He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"He was in our bedroom throwing things against the wall, ripping all of my clothes out of the closet…it was horrible."

"Did he hurt you?" Will asked, noticing for the first time the bruises on Karen's wrist as he held it up to examine the damage.

"Not really," Karen answered, as Will placed several kisses on her fingers and palm. "He was scary, though. We've fought before plenty of times but I've never seen him like that."

"Well what happened? What was wrong with him?"

"Uh, he was…" Karen hesitated. "He was mad at me."

"Why?" Will shifted in the bed, turning on his side to face her and prop himself up on his arm.

Karen considered her words carefully, not sure until that exact moment what she would tell him. And maybe it was because she was still emotionally shaken from Stan's assault, or her head was still fuzzy from the amazing sex she had just had, or just because she felt so safe and secure with Will, but she decided to tell him the truth. He tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked her face while he waited for her answer, his face full of concern for her.

"He found out about us."

Will's eyes closed and head dropped as he digested what she said.

"Karen," he began, shaking his head slowly, "I am so sorry. I was playing with fire and…I shouldn't have even ever approached you once I found out you were married."

"Don't be sorry," she said quickly, scooting her face closer to his. "I don't regret any of this." She kissed him, eliciting a small smile from him.

"Me neither," he whispered. "So what now?"

"He's moving out," she sighed. "He'll be gone by morning. I guess you can start drawing up divorce papers."

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry," Will said, not surprised that she didn't have plans to work through this after what she had told him in the park earlier that day.

"I'm not," told him. She rolled onto her other side then, dangling one arm over the edge of the bed to fish around in her purse. When she scooted back towards Will, she was holding an envelope, which clutched protectively to her chest.

"What's that?" he asked.

"There….there was another reason why Stan was so upset," she told him sheepishly. "God, this is hard. There's something else that you should know," she looked down at the envelope in her hands and pulled out the stack of photographs of Elena. Her hands trembled. The time had finally come.

Will frowned at her in confusion, her nerves not lost on him.

"I-I don't exactly know how to tell you this…" she began. Her stomach twisted into knots as she began to rethink whether or not this was a good idea.

"Karen, what is it?"

"Here," she said simply, and thrust the photographs toward his bare chest. He looked down at them and took them from her slowly, confused.

"Who is this?" he asked as he studied the little girl in the photos. Karen remained silent as he continued through the stack. She was lying on her stomach now, resting her head on her arms. She peered at him cautiously, waiting to see his reaction. Will stopped on a close up of Elena, the photo framed around her head and shoulders only, her eyes looking down at something she was holding in her lap. Her beautiful little eyelashes were resting on her cheek bones as she was lost in thought. And it was then that Will realized who it was that he was looking at. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as a wave of adrenaline rushed through him.

"Is this…is she…?"

Karen sat us now, kneeling on her knees as she scooted next to Will so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder as they both looked down at the picture. She took the pictures from his hands and set them on the sheet in front of them, taking his hands in her own.

"Will," she breathed, tears in her eyes. "You got me pregnant. I had your baby…and I gave her away."

Goosebumps covered Will's bare skin as his grip on her hands weakened. He stared deeply into her eyes as he processed what she had told him. Down the hall, Grace and Jack were just coming in the front door. Will heard Grace his call name as Karen searched his eyes, waiting for his response.

He had a daughter. He and Karen had a daughter, and she never told him. All this time they had been spending together and she had kept it a secret.

"Will?" Karen asked gently. She heard Jack in the kitchen.

"Get out," he whispered.

"What?" she pulled back from him.

"Get out."

Just then, Grace burst through the bedroom door, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight on Will and Karen, naked in bed in front of her. Karen shrieked and pulled the sheets up over her body, and Will scrambled to pull his boxers off of the floor.

"Oh my God!" Grace yelled, throwing a hand over her eyes. Jack appeared in the door behind her as Will stood, pulling his boxers the rest of the way up.

"Mary, mother of God!" Jack exclaimed. He and Grace remained motionless as Will came towards them, stopping in the door to turn back to Karen.

"You had better be out of here in five minutes," he snapped at her, before storming across the hall into Grace's bedroom and slamming the door. Jack looked at Karen, confused, before running after Will.

Grace's eye caught the photographs on the bed and in a daze, she grabbed them before Karen could. It only took Grace three pictures plus the one she had seen of Karen holding a baby to figure out what was going on.

"How could you?" she spat at Karen, who was still trembling in the bed, before storming across the hall to her room where Jack was with Will. As the door to that room opened, Karen could just see Will, doubled over with his head in his hands sitting on Grace's bed with Jack beside him doing his best to comfort him. Grace slammed the door behind her.

And Karen was left alone, naked, in Will's bed, with four minutes to put herself back together.


	21. Possibility

***Playlist: "Possibility" by Lykke Li

As soon as the elevator doors opened with a ding in the lobby of Will's building, Karen bolted out of them and rushed out the door. The sidewalk was damp and everything glistened with a thin layer of New York drizzle that reflected the nighttime lights of the city. Karen's suitcase swung at her side and her heels clacked against the pavement. The rain started to come down harder, mixing with her tears. She walked briskly, willing herself not to look back over her shoulder at the light in Grace's bedroom window, where she imagined Will being consoled by his two friends.

_Who's out here, consoling me?_ She thought. _No one._

The street was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night, and suddenly Karen could hear the glass doors of Will's apartment swing open several paces behind her. She kept walking as she heard the thud of footfalls jogging up behind her.

"Karen," Will called, as he slowed a couple of feet behind her. "Stop."

She stopped walking and turned slowly, revealing to him her mascara-streaked face, wet from the rain and her tears. He couldn't help but soften towards her in this moment, she looked so pathetic. Her hair was a askew from being thrown up in a hurry, and parts that had fallen down were wet and stuck to her face. The expression in her eyes was one of confusion and sadness. He stepped toward her, and silently gathered her into an embrace. She let her suitcase drop to the sidewalk as he enveloped her and allowed her to sob into his shoulder.

* * *

"I couldn't find you," Karen explained, looking down at cup of black coffee on the table in front of her. The waitress had just refilled her cup, and even though she didn't particularly want any more coffee, she went through the motions of adding sugar and stirring slowly just so her hands would have something to do. "I looked for you in all of our usual spots…I went back to the hotel every night for two weeks. You were never there."

As mad as Will was, he couldn't deny the fact that it wasn't entirely Karen's fault that he hadn't known she was pregnant. Their decision not to exchange contact information had been a safety measure at the time of their affair, but in hindsight was a stupid idea.

"So I gave up," Karen continued. "I kept thinking maybe we'd run into each other or something and I'd tell you then…but the weeks went by so fast and suddenly I was signing her away. Stan seemed like my only option and he didn't want a baby that wasn't his. He didn't want me to have it, but I couldn't…couldn't terminate." She took a long pause. "And I never found you."

Will relaxed in his chair across from her in the dingy corner diner.

"So where do we go from here?"

She looked back down at her coffee and shrugged.

"I guess nowhere."

They sat silently for another few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Will grabbed the stack of photos of Elena that was sitting on the table between them and studied each one carefully.

"Elena?" Will questioned, reading the birthday cake in one of the pictures.

"Yeah," Karen breathed.

"Did you name her?"

"No, her parents did."

"Her adopted parents," Will corrected.

"Right."

"How old is she?"

"Five. She started kindergarten last fall, see?" Karen moved across the table and into the booth next to Will, guiding him to the picture of Elena on her first day of school. Will smiled.

"She's really beautiful." He took Karen's hand under the table. He continued flipping through the pictures. "I wish I knew her." He suddenly dropped Karen's hand and turned in the booth to face her. "I wish you had told me before now."

"I know," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know…because I was scared," she told him. "I hadn't seen you for almost five years, and I have all this baggage that you have no part of, including a baby, and all of the sudden you're back in my life…I missed you so much, Will, and I was so grateful just to be able to talk to you again…there just never seemed like a good time."

Before Will could respond, the waitress approached the table and deposited their check in its little plastic tray in front of them. It seemed like it took her an hour to clear away their dishes and leave their table.

"I need some time to process this," Will said.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" Karen asked. Will remembered her suitcase sitting underneath the table, and how she was going to spend the night with him because Stan was leaving her tonight.

"I think you should stay with Jack," he answered, slowly and deliberately. She searched his eyes, sadness forming in hers.

"Is that what you really want?"

"Yes."

Karen turned her face away from him to hide her disappointment. Will noticed a clock on the wall near the entrance to the diner. It was almost 1 a.m.

"Come on," he motioned for her to scoot out of the booth so they could leave. "It's late. Let's deal with this tomorrow." She nodded and grabbed her suitcase and purse from the other side of the booth. They walked back to Will's apartment slowly, arm in arm. He kissed her softly outside of Jack's door, and hugged her for a long time. When he finally released her, she let herself into Jack's apartment, and he sauntered across the hall to his own place. The door closed behind him with a sad "click" and the hallway was once again deserted and silent.


	22. Someone Like You

***Playlist: "Someone Like You" by Adele

_January 1, 1994_

Will's breath was fogging up the glass of the window which his forehead was leaned against as he surveyed the street below him. He watched the drunk young people stagger down the streets, many wearing goofy sparkled hats and blowing little New Year's noisemakers. They were laughing, singing, kissing. It was a new year, and a new chance to start over. It was a time full of hope and happiness, but Will was alone and feeling anything but hopeful and happy.

He let the curtain fall over the window and went to sit on the edge of the bed. He loosened his tie and checked his watch; it was well past midnight. He sighed and sat back against the pillows, grabbed the remote to the television and turned it on. The hoopla of the traditional New Year's ball drop in Times Square was over, and the local television station had switched back to its usual late-night programming. Will's tired eyes began to soften focus as he watched the dim colors of an infomercial dance across the screen.

On the other side of the king-sized bed stood a golden room service cart with a half-empty bottle of champagne and two abandoned champagne flutes. Around 11:52, when Will was pretty sure Karen wasn't going to show up, he had decided to just swig the alcohol right out of the bottle. He reached for the bottle again now, popped off the cork, and settled back onto the bed.

* * *

Across town, Karen was arm in arm with Stan, both of them dressed to the nines. Karen's ears and neck were dripping with the diamonds Stanley had bought for her to wear to this party, and her thin, womanly figure clad in a slinky black dress was the center of every man's attention in the ballroom. The couple snaked through the crowd of party-goers, all equally dressed up and glamorous-looking. Every few steps they stopped to chat briefly with different couples, Stan introducing Karen to each one. She hadn't had one sip of alcohol that night, but felt drunk after meeting so many people in such a short period of time. Her wrist was limp from shaking hands so many times, and the muscles in her face were growing sore from smiling so much.

"James! Lillian!" Stan greeted a dignified looking, older couple that were approaching him and Karen. "Wonderful to see you again." He shook hands heartily with James, then turned to Lillian to kiss her lightly on the cheek. Karen prepared herself for the coming introduction. By now, she had her act down pat. When the party had started earlier that night, it took her awhile to get used to the mannerisms of these high-society folks, the upper crust of Manhattan with whom Stanley Walker associated. They were refined, exceedingly polite, and rather stiff; things that Karen wasn't used to at a party. The first nine or ten couples she met must've been able to practically taste her nervousness, but now, as she extended her hand to James, she was much more at ease.

"You must be Karen," Lillian surmised. "We've heard so much about you."

"Only good things, I hope," Karen smiled.

"Karen, darling, James and Lillian are some of my dearest friends in New York," Stan explained, beaming. "James was my first mentor out of business school, and he and Lillian took me in as if I was their own son in my early bachelor years."

"Yes, we loved having Stanley in the house," Lillian commented. "He was such a joy to have around. And then that dreadful Catherine Heissman came and took him away from us…" she trailed off, and suddenly Stan and James looked uncomfortable. Karen, too, was struck silent, not knowing how to approach the subject of Stan's recently-divorced first wife.

"Well, Cathy's out of the picture now," Stan assured her, regaining his smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. "And the future's looking much brighter with this one here," he pulled Karen in close to his side.

"Can we look forward to a summer wedding?" Lillian cooed. Karen shifted uncomfortably next to Stan.

"Well, I don't know about that," he blushed, looking down at Karen. "But she does make me very happy." Karen looked away from him quickly, and her stomach churned.

She had been doing a good job all night of not thinking about Will in their hotel suite. She had agreed two weeks ago to meet him for a romantic New Year's Eve in their suite, but then a few days later was asked by Stan to be his date to his annual New Year's Ball, where he wanted to present her to his friends and colleagues for the first time. She'd had a choice to make, then, and she had chosen Stanley. She waited until 7:59 that evening to decide to get in the limo Stan sent for her or take the subway to the hotel where Will would be waiting. As much as she had been looking forward to another magical night with Will, she knew this ball would be a big step in her relationship with Stanley, moving her one step closer to becoming the next Mrs. Walker, worth millions and free to play all the rest of her days.

She had thought that this ball would be glamorous and exciting – all the things she'd ever wanted for her life. She had gasped when Stan presented her with the diamond earrings and necklace he wanted her to wear for the ball, and couldn't believe it when a Christian Dior gown showed up at her apartment the next morning. She felt like she was living a fantasy; fortune and glamour with Stanley, love and fun with Will. If only she could've combined the two into one man. But, her young and easily impressed heart had decided to take this step towards Stan and away from Will, and she was beginning to realize – as Stan and James droned on and on about stocks and commodities – that she might've made the wrong choice.

* * *

Will rolled across the bed and took the small black box off of the nightstand. He opened it, revealing a modest but lovely diamond engagement ring. He ran his finger over its edges, contemplating how he had planned to propose to Karen tonight. He was going to tell her that even though they had only known each other for less than a year, and had only ever met up in this room to have sex and talk the whole night through, he was ready to take the next step with her. He wanted to go to her apartment, pick out groceries with her at the corner market, stroll through Central Park hand-in-hand with her, and introduce her to Grace and Jack. He wanted to travel the world with her, start a family, and make memories that he would cherish until the day he died.

He snapped the ring box back closed, and cringed, tossing it back onto the nightstand. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he picked up the room phone and began to dial a familiar number. Karen had blown him off tonight, the night he had been planning for weeks and had been waiting for all his life. Well, he wasn't going to wait around for her. He knew there was someone else in her life, but was almost positive that he meant more to her than the other guy ever would. But she had made a clear choice by not showing up.

There was ringing on the other end of the phone line, and then –

"Michael? It's Will. Listen, I made a mistake. I don't want to break up. I-I don't know what I was thinking. Can I come over and we can talk about it?"


End file.
